


If the World Was Ending

by ralsbecket



Series: earth's mightiest heroes [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Artist Steve Rogers, BAMF Maria Hill, Biting, Blow Jobs, Breaking Up & Making Up, Broken Promises, Canon-Typical Violence, Come Swallowing, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Dog Tags, Drunk Steve Rogers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, French Kissing, Hopeful Ending, Insecure Steve Rogers, Makeup Sex, Moving In Together, Nomad Steve Rogers, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Porn With Plot, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pull-out game strong, Romantic Fluff, SHIELD Agent Reader (Marvel), Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Secret Relationship, Song: If The World Was Ending (JP Saxe ft. Julia Michaels), Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Steve Rogers's Birthday, Strained Relationships, Suit Porn, Supportive Avengers, Team as Family, Temporary Character Death, Uniform Kink, Vaginal Sex, Wizard of Oz References, time heist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24141040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ralsbecket/pseuds/ralsbecket
Summary: Taboo Writing Challenge - Day 8: "Need some help?"-"She probably thinks you're still miserably lonely.""I honestly wonder where she's getting that, considering all of the sex we've been having."You wanted to burn him into your memory, the look of his face and the sound of his voice. You wouldn’t have believed if someone had said that you would eventually steal the heart of Captain America. If you were being honest with yourself, he had managed to steal yours, too.
Relationships: Cameron Klein & Reader, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: earth's mightiest heroes [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771900
Comments: 10
Kudos: 92





	1. Would You Love Me for the Hell of It?

**Author's Note:**

> [Check out my linktree for tumblr, discord, and other socials!](https://linktr.ee/ralsbecket)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But if the world was ending  
> You'd come over, right?  
> You'd come over and you'd stay the night  
> Would you love me for the hell of it?  
> All our fears would be irrelevant”  
> \- JP Saxe ft. Julia Michaels, _If the World Was Ending_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 12,490
> 
> A/N: I just wanted it to be known by all, in my draft notes I put "Steve is an uwu baby boy with a biting kink" and I really hope I did that description justice LOL
> 
> I spent about a month writing this, which was originally supposed to be a post-TWS story only, but it took on a mind of its own! Please leave me a comment and let me know what you thought! I'm actually super happy about this one

“Commander, these came – oh.” You hesitated in the doorway, pulling the stack of files closer to your chest as three pairs of eyes landed on you. “My apologies, I didn’t realize you were in a meeting.”

“Don’t worry, Agent L/N, we were just about done here.” Maria Hill waved you into the large office, turning her attention away from the two men occupying the seats across from her. “What do you have for me?”

Gingerly, you shut the door behind you, giving a curt nod to Director Fury before handing multiple file folders to Hill. “Reports from Agent Barton and Agent Coulson’s field team in Puente Antiguo.”

“Anything from Romanoff?”

“No, but I did get a request from Stark to have an audience with the Director.”

Fury piped up, “About what?”

“Something about joining your ‘super-secret boy band’, sir.”

Hill huffed a laugh at that. “Alright, thank you.”

That was as good a dismissal as ever, you figured. You wordlessly pivoted on your heel, aiming to leave them to finish their meeting. However, Fury called after you upon sharing a look with his second in command. “L/N, since you’re already here,” he began again, “I want to introduce you to your next assignment. Captain?”

The blond stood up from his seat, extending an arm out to you for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said, smiling. His grip was firm and professional, calloused from years at war. “Steve Rogers.”

Everyone had heard about his rescue in October, especially those whose ear Agent Coulson managed to talk off. Word was Captain America was a looker, but you hadn’t expected _this_. A nervous chill shot through your spine as you made a point to meet his eyes. You kept yourself from reacting to the feeling of electricity that traveled up your arm, returning his smile in kind.

Finally finding your words, you managed, “It’s my honor, Captain. Agent Y/N L/N. Looking forward to working with you.”

In the beginning, you were only Steve Rogers’ liaison. Director Fury tasked you with getting him settled at the Retreat, and then again when SHIELD relocated him to Brooklyn. You offered to go with him those first few times that he’d gone out to the world; it wasn’t like you were needed in the office for much anyway, and Steve seemed grateful enough for the assist.

Even though he closed himself off to most, you felt like you could read him like an open book – but perhaps it was just lonely people gravitating towards other lonely people. Seventy years had changed a lot of New York, and there was a kind of sadness that you saw in Steve’s eyes whenever he talked about it. Nonetheless, he had _a lot_ to say about the “big, ugly skyscrapers,” and it never failed to amuse you.

The two of you had taken the subway one day to pick up some of his groceries and supplies in the big city. It was packed, with employees on their way home from work and students finishing their school day. You and Steve had remained seated for the most part, watching the people come and go, until a woman and her young son stepped on and found no seat available. Steve immediately got up and offered his with a kind smile. You took the bags from his hands, tucking them between your feet.

At the next stop, you gave your seat to an elderly man, moving to stand beside Steve after situating the grocery bags between you. Wordlessly, he had wrapped an arm around your waist. You didn’t even have time to question it before the train pulled away and your hand narrowly missed grabbing onto the overhead strap, almost falling off balance.

Steve snickered under his breath, amused but looking a little concerned. “Let’s not have you sprawled out on the R line, huh?”

Slightly embarrassed, you felt the heat rushing to your cheeks. “I meant to do that,” you lied. “Testing your reflexes. Still sharp.”

“Right,” he responded, pressing his lips together to suppress a smile.

As the months passed, you started seeing him around the headquarters more. He met with Fury and the on-site therapist for a while before they reasoned that he was ready for some small assignments. Since you worked in Administration, you’d be the one going through a lot of the mission reports yourself. Most people would just email them for ease of convenience, but not Steve. It was probably due to the fact that the Internet was still fresh to him, but that man was the highlight of your day whenever it was time to hand off his reports.

“Three folders, Steve?” you questioned him one day, glancing at the thick files. “Fury isn’t overworking you, is he?”

Steve grinned sheepishly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, I kind of fell behind on the paperwork part.”

“I’m sure the Director would just _love_ to hear that you’re not keen on following protocol,” you teased him, practicing a straight face.

He had the audacity to pretend to be offended. “You don’t have the guts.”

“Wanna bet, Captain?”

~*~*~*~

The following week, news spread around the organization that one of SHIELD’s research bases had been destroyed out west. Minimizing the threat of some alien calling himself “Loki” moved to the top of the priority list, and you itched for some action. Being transferred to the new Helicarrier vessel to find the Tesseract was new and exciting and important (and, notably, it was something you could rub in the faces of your friends back at HQ).

Assigned as the Welcome Wagon, you met Phil Coulson and Steve on deck when they landed the Quinjet, an excited grin clear across your face. “Agent Coulson, Captain Rogers,” you said in greeting. Turning to the former, you informed him, “They need you on the bridge. They’re starting the face-trace.”

“See you there,” Coulson replied, taking his leave.

Steve followed you from the transport, making your way around the deck’s tarmac. He glanced at you with an absentminded smile, and you felt your face go red as you met his gaze. “What is it?” you inquired curiously.

“Nothing,” he said simply, the smile still tugging on his lips.

“Sometimes I really wonder what goes on in your head, Rogers,” you told him jokingly. You sent a quick thanks to the powers that be that things weren’t awkward between you two. “When I heard Coulson was picking you up today, I thought he was going to _swoon_. Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?”

Steve bit back a surprised grin, turning. “Trading cards?”

“They’re vintage. He’s very proud.”

The two of you spotted a man looking quite lost by the jets, donning a suit and looking around like he was scared of being shot. Given his reputation, you figured that was exactly the case.

“Dr. Banner,” Steve called, extending an arm out to shake his hand.

Bruce Banner accepted the greeting, “Yeah, hi. They told me you would be coming.”

“Word is, you can find the Cube.”

“Is that the… only word on me?”

“Only word I care about.”

You turned away from them momentarily when your comm buzzed. Holding a hand to your ear, you listened to the voice on the other line. “Yeah, L/N here.”

“ _It’s Hill. We’re wings up in five._ ”

“Copy. I’ll bring the boys in.” You took a few steps forward to be within earshot again, grabbing the attention of both Steve and Dr. Banner. “Gentlemen, you might want to step inside in a minute. It’s going to get a little hard to breathe.”

The PA rattled to life then: “ _Flight crew, secure the deck_.” Everyone topside was readily tying down the jets and hustling to get below. The three of you watched on, listening as the rotors and flight engines powered up on the Helicarrier.

“Is this a submarine?” Steve asked you, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Really?” Banner scoffed indignantly, shaking his head. “They want me in a submerged, pressurized, metal container?”

You smirked, letting them walk closer to the end of the deck to see the turbines emerging from the ocean.

“No, no, this is _much_ worse.”

When you, Steve, and Banner reached the bridge, the place was already bustling with SHIELD agents. Those at the terminals monitored instrument performances and Hill was at the forefront, overseeing everything. You placed a hand briefly on Steve’s arm and excused yourself, heading down the catwalk to your designated station to continue your work.

Dogged for updates on Clint Barton’s whereabouts, Natasha Romanoff had appeared at your side right when you signed on. You were trying to track him down with SHIELD’s software, but it was going to take longer than any of them liked. The redhead left to show the good doctor to the research lab on level four, just as Steve crouched next to your terminal.

“One of Loki’s guys?” he inquired.

You shook your head, turning to look him in the eye. “One of our guys, actually.”

The team did end up finding Barton the next day, once Steve and Romanoff had returned from Germany after confronting Loki. Or, rather, he found _you_. Loki’s lackeys had infiltrated the Helicarrier in the early morning, taking out the engine turbines and making a whole mess of things when they broke him out of SHIELD custody.

The med techs were on the bridge patching up everyone who wasn’t too critically injured; including you, who’d had the misfortune of getting grazed by a couple of stray bullets during the foray. Ignoring the throbbing pain in your side, you retreated to one of the back corridors. Agents passed by without giving you a second glance; with the news from Fury still heavy in your chest, this was a small reprieve.

“You’re hurt.”

Turning in surprise, you came face to face with a concerned Steve Rogers, who looked a little banged up himself after trying to fix a broken engine turbine with Tony Stark. He was standing an arm’s length away; far enough to give you space but just close enough to reach. All you wanted to do was run into his arms to find comfort, but you also knew it would cross a line neither of you could come back from.

“I’m… it’s just…” You frowned, clearing your throat. You couldn’t even get the words out to tell him that you were fine. But you weren’t fine, not really, because _Coulson was gone_. By no means had you been close, but after years of working alongside the man, you weren’t sure how to handle never seeing him again.

Steve offered a gentle smile. “Are you going to be okay?”

Inhaling a shaky breath, you attempted to blink away the wetness threatening to run down your face. “I’ve never lost… Sorry, this isn’t very –” Your cheeks were warm, from both embarrassment and salty tears.

“You don’t need to apologize.” Steve didn’t hesitate to pull you into him, wrapping both arms over your shoulders and letting you cry it out. He was a comfort, a steady support. His heartbeat remained constant, as did his breathing; you tried matching it if only to calm yourself down. “I’ve got you,” Steve said softly.

He began to rub your back lightly, tucking your head under his chin. If nothing else, you clung to Steve like a lifeline.

~*~*~*~

“So, you’re telling me you’ve _never_ thought of fucking the guy?”

“Susanna!” You hissed under your breath, eyes going wide. Your head swiveled around, making sure no one else heard the inappropriate comment.

“I’m just saying,” Susanna pressed, tossing away the remnants of her lunch. She adjusted the ID on her uniform before tying up her dark hair.

You could only throw your friend a look, shaking your head. “He is very handsome, but it wouldn’t –”

“Just _handsome_? Captain America looks gorgeous for someone that’s, like, _ninety-years-old_.” Susanna waved her hand with a flourish, like she was trying to emphasize her point.

You scoffed and fought the urge to roll your eyes. Susanna wasn’t _wrong_ ; Steve Rogers was arguably one of the most attractive men you’d ever seen. Not only that, but he had those just-too-blue eyes and kind smile. You tried to maintain a professional relationship with him, though, making sure you treated him like a human being first and not like the living legend that he was. But even that was getting more complicated the closer you’d become.

The two of you crossed the SHIELD Headquarters lobby when you noticed Cameron Klein on the way to the elevator. He carried a tower of boxes in his arms, looking slightly unsteady on his feet. You hustled to catch up in order to lend a hand, with Susanna just behind you. Without a word, you pulled a couple of the boxes from his hold.

Cameron’s curly hair flopped over his eyes when he turned. “You are a godsend,” he sighed happily, thanking you with a smile.

“Where are you headed, Cam?” you inquired, shifting to balance the boxes in your hands.

“Just down to my car. Maguire wanted these sent to the new Research Lab.”

“Stark’s old R&D center, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“And he’s making you transport them yourself?” Susanna followed up, hitting the proper level button. “Brutal.”

The technician made small conversation as you descended to the garage. According to him, there was some talk about rotations and transfers over the next coming months. A few agents from the New York headquarters had already been posted at the Triskelion, the main hub in Washington, D.C.

As you three finally found and unlocked Cameron’s company car, you helped him to fit the boxes in the trunk with your impressive Tetris skills. “What’s so important there that SHIELD’s transferring people out of HQ?” you wondered aloud.

“Beats me. I’m thinking it might have something to do with the alien invasion that happened, but you know, don’t quote me on that.” Cameron slammed his trunk shut, sighing loudly.

~*~*~*~

A few months after the Battle of New York, Fury assigned you to Steve’s service campaign detail. America’s Golden Boy was slated to film public service announcements sponsored by the government. Something to do about “good faith” and a lot of underlying politics.

You weren’t sure what you were getting yourself into at first, especially when the two of you arrived at some studio and Steve absolutely refused to leave his dressing room. “Hey, you know Fury’s going to rip you a new one for holding up the crew,” you said through his locked door.

“Let him,” Steve challenged. His voice was slightly muffled from the other side. “I don’t remember signing up to be paraded around in a monkey costume.”

“Aren’t you the guy who _wore_ a monkey costume when you punched Hitler in the teeth, like, a hundred times?”

Silence.

You knocked again. “Steve, it can’t be _that_ bad. At least let me –”

The lock clicked, and the door swung open to reveal Steve Rogers in the most patriotic outfit to date. Slightly different from his previous battle suit, the red and white stripes appeared bright and new. It clearly drew inspiration from the original costume that he’d worn back during his show-tour days in the ‘40s, minus the protruding ear wings.

“Oh – oh my _God_.” You pressed your lips together, holding back a laugh.

A mildly irritated expression appeared on Steve’s face – or rather, what you could _see_ of his face – and he was clearly not amused. Steve pulled the mask off, revealing his unruly blond hair. “Y/N, this isn’t funny.”

“It is a little bit funny,” you said, stifling a giggle with your hand. You followed him into the room when he turned on his heel. “Come on. Get out there, Rogers. The children of America are counting on you.”

“Y/N –”

“Do it for the children!” He turned around to face you, stubborn as ever. You smiled then, asking sweetly, “Do it for me?”

A beat. Then two. Steve visibly sighed before his eyes fell to the floor in defeat. “Fine,” he grumbled, giving in. He ran a hand through his hair, pulled the mask back on, and marched out to the sound stage.

Watching Steve read the words from the teleprompter with such _gusto_ cemented a smile to your lips, like a high school freshman watching her senior quarterback boyfriend score a touchdown during a homecoming game. He really was a good sport, all things considered, and it was genuinely admirable.

“Hi, I’m Captain America,” Steve recited from the screen, “here to talk to you about one of the most valuable traits a soldier or student can have: Patience. Sometimes patience is the key to victory. Sometimes it leads to very little, and it seems like it’s not worth it. And you wonder why you waited so long for something so disappointing.” He paused momentarily before turning to the director, asking, “How many more of these?”

The director considered his next words, stealing a look to the assistant director at his side, before responding to Steve as nicely as possible. “Let’s do one more take for safety, and then we can move onto the other P.E. challenge skits.”

Steve huffed back to his mark. You caught his eye from across the room and smiled at him, raising two thumbs up in support. When the director called ‘action’ for the last time, Steve seemed to have gained a pep in his step.

You really warmed up to each other over the year, enough that you would’ve considered yourselves close acquaintances. But that still didn’t prevent your heart from doing flips when he walked you to the car at the end of the day and asked you out for a coffee. “Just as a thank-you, for everything,” Steve amended immediately after, most likely misreading the awestruck expression on your face.

A million things were going through your mind in that moment, and it was a fast-moving train of _Captain America is asking to get coffee but it’s probably only as friends just say yes what could go wrong but maybe you should decline to be professional_ that started to derail as Steve’s ears turned pink and his brow furrowed.

“I hope I didn’t overstep – I just thought –”

“No, no. You’re completely fine,” you replied, attempting to fill an unnecessarily long silence and fight the shit-eating grin that was slowly pulling at your lips. Your immediate instinct was to say _Yes, I’d love to grab a coffee with you, Steve_ but what came out instead was, “Thank you for the offer, Captain, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

“Of course, I understand.” The sympathetic grin remained on his face, but the hopeful spark faded from his eyes. It took everything in you not to steal your words back. Steve, however, surprised you by throwing out, “Rain check, then?”

Who’d be crazy enough to say ‘no’ to him _twice_? Well, _you_ were, apparently. After panicking and rushing out a really awkward _It’s probably not a good idea_ , Steve waved curtly in your direction before he left the parking garage on his motorcycle.

_He was just trying to be_ _nice_ , you ruminated as you sat in the stillness of your car that not even a stereo could fill, _and you screwed it all up by being weird about it_. Time to throw any chance of him asking you out again straight out the window.

~*~*~*~

The days after were fairly uneventful, save for the STRIKE and Special Ops teams returning from their missions abroad. You’d been procrastinating for hours now, all but ignoring the files and reports on your desk. Quite a few agents from all departments were being formally transferred to the Triskelion at the end of the week, yourself included. With that looming over your head, you just weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

It was two hours before the end of your shift when your supervisor finally decided she had enough of your dawdling. Melinda May walked over to your desk with _that look_ that always made people cower under her scrutiny. “L/N, go home,” she ordered with an exasperated sigh. “Get your head on straight. This’ll be here in the morning.”

You raised your hands in defeat, knowing arguing would only lead to a losing battle. Instead, you thanked May, putting away your things before heading to the elevator. You watched the light at the top of the doors, following where the lift was picking up and dropping off other SHIELD agents below.

When the bell dinged and the doors finally opened, you waited for the others to step out before heading in. You caught the eye of Tall, Blond and Handsome as you crossed paths. Warmth crept up your neck and settled in your cheeks immediately. You two hadn’t had the chance to talk since the last time (not like you were making any _effort_ on your end, necessarily). At this point, you were just hoping your blush wasn’t noticeable under the fluorescents.

“Y/N, wait, where ya headed?” Steve asked, looking genuinely perplexed. He had a folder nestled between his gloved hands, the mission report within it being his usual excuse to come see you. “Don’t you have a couple hours ‘til the end of your shift?”

“Headed home early,” you answered as Steve joined you in the elevator descending to the parking garage. After a moment, your brows knitted together. Grinning slightly, you inquired, “Steve, how do you know my work schedule?”

“I was, um…” It was his turn to blush. The super-soldier smiled sheepishly as he rocked slightly on the balls of his feet. He motioned to the folder in his hands, explaining, “STRIKE just came back, and I wanted to make sure I caught you before the end of the day.”

His answer trapped your hopeful heart in surprise. You mentally kicked yourself for expecting anything more. Maybe you should just be an adult and clear the air already.

“Listen, I heard you were transferring to –”

“I’m sorry about what I –”

You both stopped abruptly when the elevator opened again, ten floors from your intended destination. Both you and Steve stepped into the corner, making room for the three engineers talking animatedly about some new Helicarrier update. They got off on the next level, only to be replaced by science squints, then STRIKE teams, then flight crew, and then other field agents.

Everyone acknowledged Steve’s presence with a solemn nod or quiet greeting, and by the time the elevator reached the main lobby, he was basically pressed against your side from the amount of people coming and going. When the doors shut, and it was just the two of you again, and Steve’s musk was tickling the back of your brain, you braved a glance up from his tactical suit.

He was looking down at you, with mere inches in between you both. It was the first time that you noticed the green flecks in his blue eyes, and by then you realized your breath was stuck in your throat. Even after licking your lips to fight the dryness of your mouth, you didn’t trust your voice to work properly. “What was it you needed to talk to me about?” you asked.

Steve’s response was quiet, just above a whisper. “Agent Klein mentioned that you both were being transferred to D.C. this week.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and your eyes focused to his mouth. “I was – I _am_ hoping that maybe third time’s the ch –”

Something possessed you to close the space between you two; the action surprised you just as much as him. It was innocent, a testing of the waters, and even then, kissing him made your nerve-endings tingle. Neither of you bothered to pull away until the doors slid open.

Next thing you knew, the two of you were stumbling through the front door of his dark Brooklyn apartment, lips locked as if detaching yourselves would cut off air supply. He pressed you against the door when it shut, both hands framing your face while he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth. You let out a snicker when Steve complained under his breath about taking off the tact suit, breaking away long enough to get rid of his vest and undo his boots.

With bated breath and heart swelling with a nameless warmth, you watched as Steve looked up at you from his eyelashes, lips kissed red and slightly parted. It was electric, the goosebumps that spread from your shoulders to the soles of your feet. God, did you just want to kiss him again. You toed off your own shoes, easily pulling your blouse overhead.

“Come here,” you said quietly. With one hand, you tilted his chin up, capturing the soldier’s lips once again, smiling into it as he rose to his full height. You both fumbled with his belt until Steve’s muscle memory kicked in. You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled from your lips when he began to trail kisses from your shoulder to the sensitive spot behind your ear.

Both of you managed to strip down to your underwear without too much fuss, however easily distracted you were with hands roaming like teenagers discovering themselves for the first time. The thought crossed your mind that you might not even _make_ it to the bedroom before Steve picked you up by the waist and threw you over his shoulder, ignoring the trail of clothes littering the living room and following you into the hallway.

Your heart jumped to your throat, a short yelp filling the air. “Steven!”

“I won’t let you fall.” His hand was flat on the small of your back with the other hooking around your knees, making good on his assurance. He pushed the door open and walked to his bed, crawling onto the mattress before laying you down. Steve smiled then, saying, “I promise.”

You kissed him again, pulling him down by the hairs at the nape of his neck. He shifted his weight onto his elbows, his hips effectively pinning you to the bed. You moaned when he licked into your mouth, the mere taste of his tongue making your head swim. His fingers twisted into your hair as he started peppering your jawline with kisses, sucking red marks along the column of your neck. Soft pants fell from your mouth as his teeth nipped at your skin, his tongue smoothing over after.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbled against your skin, mouthing at your pulse point.

Running your hands across his broad back, you jibed, “You’re quite the looker yourself, mister.” You smiled down at him when he shook his head, huffing a laugh.

You can’t say you hadn’t imagined it many times before, feeling the flex of his muscles under your hand and feeling his mouth on you. Steve took his time kissing every inch of you, from the valley of your breasts to the elastic of your underwear. His hands skimmed down your sides, kneading as he went. His gaze stayed on yours as he left short pecks on the insides of your thighs, moving your legs over his shoulders. When Steve’s head dipped and he mouthed over your underwear, your heart started racing.

He pushed aside the fabric, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the juncture of your thighs. A sigh escaped you when Steve slowly licked a wet stripe up from your entrance, gauging your reaction with a smile. You closed your eyes in bliss, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as Steve’s tongue lapped at your folds, teasing and unhurried. Reaching for him with a hand, you raked and tugged your fingers through hair. He hummed against you, sending vibrations at your core and butterflies in your stomach.

Being exposed to him was titillating, if not a little nerve-wracking, putting this much trust in each other. You didn’t realize you were rutting against his face until both of his hands gripped firmly on your hips, keeping you still as he massaged fingerprints into your skin. Moans ghosted past your lips as Steve continued his deliberate ministrations, almost well practiced. You wracked your brain trying to figure out where he possibly could’ve learned –

“Oh, fuck. _Steve_ ,” you gasped. Your hips bucked forward when the blond started circling around your clit with his tongue, sending lightning through your body. The overstimulation would normally be a turnoff (if a guy could ever find the elusive spot), but the way Steve’s tongue moved had your head swimming in circles. You pulled at the sheets, squirming on the bed, head thrown back as you whimpered, “Steve… Stevie, jeez, I’m gonna –”

The warm feeling in your abdomen grew quickly as Steve chuckled against you, alternating between sucking and licking the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your breaths turned quick and shallow as you approached an orgasm – and then it slowly dissipated as he pulled away from you, spreading your legs wider and leaving more kisses on the inside of your thighs.

Annoyance crossed your mind at that, the incredible ache returning to you. “You fucker,” you cursed at the air, panting. You angled our head down to him, breath hitching in your throat when you saw the glistening wetness on his sinful lips. A mad blush rose to your cheeks.

Steve sucked on a finger before stroking it between your wet folds, raising a brow to you when he met your gaze. “Did you need something, doll?” he asked teasingly, slowly inserting his forefinger and pressing down slightly to stretch you out.

The only response you could muster was a low moan when he returned his attention to your swollen clit, stars already dancing behind your eyes. Steve tentatively inserted a second finger as you clenched around them, continuing his slow thrusting motion. You cursed loudly when he adjusted to thrum against your walls, the pleasure building in your gut and reaching every limb.

Steve’s breath was warm against your skin that felt like fire. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he breathed softly, scissoring his fingers inside. You could hear the lewd sounds that came with every movement, evidence of your increased arousal.

His scent was all over the pillows, and you muffled a moan with your head angled into them. “Don’t – _oh, Christ_ – don’t stop.” Your hands buried themselves in his hair, pulling him closer if only humanly possible. Steve obliged, latching around your clit and flicking at it repeatedly with the tip of his tongue. _Oh God, the things he did to you._

It wasn’t long before his touch coaxed a climax out of you, back arching from the bed and lips forming around his name. White creeped at the edge of your vision; you couldn’t seem to form coherent thoughts apart from _Steve_ and _holy shit_. He eased you through your orgasm, leaving slow strokes with the flat of his tongue. A weak laugh of embarrassment caressed your lips as you lay trying to regain your breath.

Steve slid his hands up your sides, trailing his lips along your skin as he hovered over you, eyes half-lidded with a lazy smile on his lips. For someone who just gave you (arguably) the best orgasm of your life, Steve sure had the audacity to look innocent. “You okay?”

Head still slightly foggy, you nodded in response. Despite your limbs feeling like jelly, you reached up to wipe your juices from his face, dragging the pad of your thumb across his lip. When you sucked on your thumb to taste yourself, you noticed his once blue eyes darken with lust, pupils blown wide at the sight. Jokingly, you said, “And here I thought Captain America was supposed to be ‘virgin pure’.”

“What gave you that idea?” Steve said, the corners of his lips turning up in a slight grin. He leaned down, softly pressing his lips to yours for a long moment. “I might’ve been a skinny kid with a laundry list of defects,” he assessed, “but I still learned to take care of a lady.”

Steve’s skin was warm under your hands, the bulge in his boxers hard against your thigh. You pulled him back to you, almost purring into the kiss when he rolled his hips. The taste of you was heavy on him, and he groaned when you licked his lip. He slid a hand to your back, pulling you closer to him. But then Steve paused, drawing away suddenly. He dropped his head and cursed in frustration.

“What’s wrong?” you whispered, trying to meet his eyes when he shifted his weight on his elbows again. Because you were you, the absolute worst-case scenarios were running through your head – did he regret it already? Was it you?

Maybe you’d been right all along, and this _was_ a horrible idea.

“I, uh, honestly didn’t expect… I don’t have protection; we shouldn’t risk it,” he explained bashfully, avoiding your eye to limit his humiliation. Steve’s face was colored bright red.

_Wholesome_ was a word you’d use to describe him in this moment _._ You stared speechless; a soft smile tugged at your lips. Steve Rogers was a different breed of man altogether, you gathered. The words had fallen off your tongue before you could help it: “I’m clean. Are you clean?”

Steve’s blue eyes met yours and he licked his lips; you knew that he was following your train of thought. “Yes, but what if –”

“I’m on the pill,” you offered, craning your neck forward to leave feather-light kisses along his jawline. The smell of your musk on him triggered a gut reaction, and you wrapped an arm around his shoulders, the other hand twisting into his hair once more as his lips found yours. Against his mouth you muttered, “I want you to fuck me, Captain.”

A grin spread across his dumb, handsome face after he brushed away the initial surprise. Enthusiastically, Steve responded, “Oh yes, ma’am.”

Both you and Steve immediately went to strip off your underwear, shimmying them down your legs. He undid the hook to your bra, unceremoniously tossing it over his shoulder. You arched into the heat of his mouth on your breast, moaning at the sensation that went straight to your core. He was already hard, thicker than you’d expected. Reaching down to stroke his length in your hand, you reveled in the grunts that came from him. Steve had an arm cradling your head, the other grasping your thigh at his waist.

Pressing a kiss to the hollow of your throat, he whispered your name. Excitement coursed through your veins as Steve raised your hips slightly, slicking his cock with the wetness between your legs. You wet your lips in anticipation when he reached down to position himself at your opening. His eyes flickered to meet yours in a silent question, and you reached up to cup his face, caressing his cheek with your thumb. Steve’s lips parted with an exhale, the head of his cock pressing into you as he rocked his hips ever so slightly.

As Steve continued to push himself forward, you both let out a long and drawn out moan in unison. The stretch of him was deliciously toe-curling, his thrusts slow and calculated to allow you to adjust to the unbelievable fullness. You almost came again then and there with being so sensitive, panting out his name and hugging him closer. The string of expletives that he gasped against your neck was music to your ears when you rolled your hips and crossed your ankles behind him, burying him further into you.

Steve got the hint, taking an experimental thrust forward that elicited another moan of his name coming from your lips. He was gentle, keeping his pace even as he pulled out entirely, and then buried his cock to the hilt. “Goddamn, Y/N,” he huffed, his expression of pure pleasure. You wanted to burn this in your memory, the look of his face and the sound of his voice.

You ran a hand up and down Steve’s spine, peppering kisses across his face – his creased brow, his cute nose, his warm cheeks – before capturing his lips with yours, swallowing his moans as you met every one of his thrusts. There were no words to accurately describe the sensation of absolute fullness that you felt. The coil in your stomach slowly began to tighten, and you clenched around his cock, pleading, “Steve, right there – _hah_ – baby, don’t stop.”

He adjusted his hold, gripping your hips tight before fucking into you harder. An easy chuckle rolled past his lips when you both cursed in surprise, and you just about swooned at the sound. Steve’s speed was relentless; each thrust had his cock hitting you so deep that the only thing going through your mind was _him_. Not Captain America, not the super-soldier, but Steve.

The way his arms were so strong but comforting; the way his mouth left behind bruises that would take a week to fade; the way his roaming hands raised goosebumps on your skin; the way his soft hair went rogue between your fingers; the way his smell filled your lungs and stayed so distinctly him; the way his voice made your heart race with every utterance of your name.

“Tell me when you’re gonna cum,” you breathed against his shoulder, all but clawing at his back to pull him closer. Your pants quickened as waves of bliss washed over you, the pleasure intensifying in your spine as you chased your climax.

He hugged you around the waist, one hand fisting into your hair again while he left wet kisses on your collarbone. The sounds of sex echoed in the darkness of his room, and the blasphemous noises shared between you seemed to turn Steve on further with each thrust.

When Steve’s hips stuttered and the head of his cock reached your sweet spot, you fully came undone, calling his name and moaning so loud that his neighbors likely heard. The coil in your stomach had released with rising waves of euphoria and adoration washing over you. Despite the film of sweat layering your bodies, you clung onto Steve who groaned into your ear as your walls pulsed around his cock.

“Shit, Y/N. You’re so…” His movements slowed as he made the effort to not lose himself inside of you. “So good.” Steve kissed you earnestly, brushing his tongue against yours.

Your head was still reeling, and your face was tingling, and your limbs felt light, but you pulled away from Steve, pressing your foreheads together as you stared into his eyes. “Are you cumming?” you asked, earning an eager nod from the blond.

“I’m close,” he breathed through gritted teeth. Steve gasped when you pushed him out of you, cursing when your hand wrapped around his slick length and stroked his shaft. It took only a few moments until he choked out a groan, burying his face against your shoulder as he came loads on your stomach. He shakily fell beside you, chest rising and falling.

You laid there in his bed trying to catch your own breath, completely blissed out and feeling like you could just about melt into the mattress. His room was dark save for the moonlight coming in from the window, you noticed for the first time. With the bed incredibly warm from your body heat and the night’s activities, the room wrapped you with an aura of coziness. You felt for Steve’s hand, grabbing his wrist before fitting your fingers together. It felt… just right. He gave a light squeeze, and you angled your head towards him.

His once perfect hair was sticking out in that just-fucked kind of way, and there was something akin to _affection_ on his face. His eyes traced the contours of your face before he settled on your gaze. This was another thing that you desperately wanted to remember forever.

“So… was that still a ‘no’ on the coffee?” he said in jest. Steve’s face split into a wide grin when you started laughing.

“You’re such an idiot,” you said, not able to hide a smile. You shifted slightly, moving listlessly to nestle against his side. There was a solid line in the ground that you both had crossed tonight with reckless abandon, and you were aware of it, but finding a way to go back was the last thing on your mind. Steve was warm, and being held by him made you feel safe, protected. It was a feeling you wanted to get used to.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, listening only to the rise and fall of each other’s breathing. Many thoughts creeped and pulled at your mind, considering where the night left you. You believed Steve might have dozed off until his fingers began to trace figure eights on your bare back, sending chills up your spine and raising goosebumps all over your skin again.

His brow was furrowed slightly, and you reached up to smooth it over lightly. Thinking he was being awfully quiet, you asked, “What is it?”

Steve grew tense when the words not so gracefully left his kiss-stained lips, as if he was preparing himself for an answer he didn’t want to hear: “Is this the part where you stay until I’ve fallen asleep, and then sneak out in the middle of the night to spare my feelings?”

Silently, you had been wondering the same thing – what the two of you were now, more than friends but not exactly lovers. You placed a hand on his chest, beginning to mirror his movements with figure eights of your own. “Did you want me to?” you whispered evenly. You worried your bottom lip, considering the words on your tongue before uttering them. “Honestly, I was sort of hoping you’d ask me to stay.”

A short huff of a laugh escaped his nose. “Good,” he replied, pressing a firm kiss to your hair with a lazy smile. “I was sort of hoping to make you breakfast in the morning.”

~*~*~*~

You woke up to the smell of homemade pancakes and the sound of sizzling bacon. Steve was barefoot in the kitchen, wearing an old army shirt and pajama pants. His blond hair was still standing at odd angles, fainting purple hickeys littering the skin of his neck. You just leaned against the counter as he worked, making idle conversation.

You had taken a few minutes to leave his apartment that morning, arms wrapped around each other as you chased the taste of maple syrup on his tongue. Even as you drove home to change clothes before returning to HQ, a grin was fixed to your lips. It remained there up until your lunch break, when your friends teased relentlessly.

“Is that _all_ you’re eating?” Susanna asked at the same time as Cameron questioned, “Did you have sex last night?” And as always, the latter was way better at reading you than the former. Whether it was the dopey grin on your face or the high collared uniform you put on to cover the hickeys that gave you away, you didn’t dare ask.

“Both of you shut up,” you ordered them, stabbing a fork into your fruit bowl. You could feel your face heating up with embarrassment. Lamely, you said, “I had a big breakfast.”

“But you _never_ eat breakfast.” Cameron smirked knowingly, unwrapping his sandwich. With an almost impressed look, he pointed out, “You know, I haven’t seen you this happy since you bought that vibrator two years ago.”

Your jaw fell as you smacked his shoulder, chastising, “Cam, I told you never to bring it up!”

“Okay, wait.” Susanna couldn’t stop from cackling, wiping tears from her eyes. “You found a man who can satisfy you in bed _and_ make you breakfast? Girl, where the hell do I sign up?”

~*~*~*~

The inevitable move to Washington, D.C. wasn’t terrible. SHIELD had put you and other agents up in nice apartments all around the city. Not to mention, getting oriented with new assignments was a lot easier for you than it was for Cameron, who got promoted to the main control room.

It didn’t hurt either that you started to have many, many more breakfasts with Steve Rogers after his own transfer to the nation’s capital.

Merely one month after being uprooted, you had seen him touring around the Triskelion with Commander Hill. He found you later on the Admin level with a broad smile on his face, handing over his updated dossier and purposely brushing over your fingers with his. Especially with the prying eyes of your new coworkers gawking over Captain America, you both tried keeping the flirting to a minimum.

“How was the move for you?” he asked, making simple conversation.

“Pretty smooth, actually,” you answered, beginning to input his information. “Cameron and I even did the tourist thing and went around the landmarks. What about you?”

Steve picked up a pen from your desk and started fidgeting with it between his fingers. “The new place is cozy, I suppose.” He met your eyes, and you recognized the look of amusement in them. “I’m already missing my apartment in Brooklyn, though. You could say it held _very_ pleasant memories.”

Heat creeped up your neck and you paused, biting back a knowing smile. You cleared your throat briefly, declaring, “I’m sure you’ll be making new memories in no time.”

He beamed, replacing your pen before crossing his arms over his chest. One of Steve’s brows quirked up as he said, “You think so?” The question was totally blasé to anyone listening in, but the hopeful tone in his voice was evident.

And you definitely weren’t wrong. That very weekend, with one hilariously failed attempt at cooking dinner involving burnt pasta sauce and setting off a fire alarm, the two of you had decided to order in from a nearby Chinese restaurant.

You giggled like a schoolgirl, watching the concentrated furrow of his brow as the soldier tried using chop sticks for the first time. You learned that night that when Steve put his mind to something, he had a habit of putting his whole heart into it. However, he also had the tendency of not giving up, even if things weren’t working in his favor.

Shaking your head in amusement, you picked up and ate a piece of orange chicken. “As much as I admire your perseverance, baby, I don’t think you’ll learn this in one night.”

“No, I think I almost got this.” The sticks came up around the chicken but crossed awkwardly before he could get a hold of it. Steve shook out his right hand, obviously starting to cramp up. Taking pity on him, you reached for the takeout container, swiping a piece before holding it up to his mouth. He accepted, mumbling a grateful _thanks_ mid-chew. Stubborn as he was, it took him a while before deciding to switch to the plastic forks.

The two of you caught up throughout the night, still entirely comfortable with each other. If Cameron Klein didn’t already hold the title, Steve Rogers was surely becoming one of your closest friends. Even without the mutual attraction, you enjoyed his energy and merely being in his presence. You shared inside jokes, old war stories, and tales of your families.

Steve reminisced on a story about his mom Sarah once threatening to beat the shit out of him and his best friend Bucky Barnes when they came home after getting into a fight. It was a wild story, and you were hanging onto every word, yet you couldn’t help staring at how his eyes lit up talking about the people he’d cared most about.

You didn’t realize a smile was plastered on your face until Steve trailed off mid-sentence, blinking in your direction. “Why’d you stop?” you asked him, meeting his eyes.

He gave an embarrassed grin, lowering his gaze before answering with, “For a moment there, your smile sort of took my breath away.”

_That was totally smooth. Was he flirting?_ “Feeling like that skinny, asthmatic kid from Brooklyn all over again?” you shot back jokingly. It took a fraction of a second before you hoped to will those words right back in your mouth so you could _keep them there_.

_That was not_ _smooth, Y/N._ Not _smooth._

Much to your surprise, Steve barked out a laugh, clutching at his chest. “Yeah, a little bit.”

Later when he’d stowed away the leftovers in the fridge, you found yourself cuddling with Steve on his couch, watching the 1939 film, _The_ _Wizard of Oz_. It was incredibly domestic considering your job positions, and you were happy being in his embrace with his fingers carding through your hair.

He beamed at the movie’s remastered colorization, lamenting on the times when a movie ticket cost less than a quarter back in the day. Steve made a cheeky comment about how Bucky had taken a date out once to see this film and managed to get frisky in the theaters.

Given, you hadn’t originally thought the Tin Man’s rendition of “If I Only Had a Heart” was a track that anyone had on their _songs to have sex to_ playlist, but Steve always had a unique way of usurping your expectations. The movie was background noise by the time he was… sending you over the rainbow, as one does. All he had to do was press a kiss behind your ear before you were absolute putty in his hands.

~*~*~*~

Although your relationship was mostly casual (with the occasional romp in the sheets – or on the couch, or in the shower once), you and Steve had agreed to remain a secret. There was nothing against dating within SHIELD, but neither of you wanted to have to sign the non-sexual harassment paperwork that was easily accessible by just about everyone.

For a few months, life went on seamlessly. No one seemed to be the wiser, and the rush of adrenaline whenever you risked getting caught was almost intoxicating. There were stolen glances during briefings; casual lunches with coworkers where you played footsie under the table; hidden kisses in the utility closets when you were hoping no one was looking. You continued working in the Admin office, and Steve continued going on his missions. At some point, you started finding cute little sticky notes tucked into the reports Steve dropped off at your desk.

_I couldn’t stop thinking about you last week, doll._

_Hey, gorgeous. Don’t forget to hydrate!_

_I saw this beautiful sunset in Rome, and it reminded me of you._

_My place tonight?_

Some of the sticky notes included just little sketches of random things he’d seen abroad, but others were detailed drawings of _you_. Little glimpses that he captured of your laugh, of your hands in his, of the insane way you held your coffee mug from the bottom, of your lazy morning smiles whenever you’d wake up after staying over at his place. You didn’t know how Steve hid his artistic talent from you for so long, but every single one warmed your heart.

There was one day in October when you and Cameron had taken your lunch breaks together, grabbing chocolate chip bagels and coffees from the cafeteria before riding the elevator back to your floor. You two were in the middle of arguing over who’d win in a fight between Brock Rumlow and Clint Barton when you spotted a bouquet of flowers sitting on your desk.

“Delivery came by while you were gone. There’s no name.” Agent Kim teased, shaking her head, “It looks like you have a secret admirer.”

Your mouth fell open, knowing full well who had sent them. And you couldn’t exactly yell at him either, because he was already gone for a three-week mission to South Africa. Blood rushed to your ears as your heart started pounding.

Cameron set down his coffee, inspecting the card attached to the flowers. After a moment, he accused, “Have you been _dating_ someone and not _telling_ me?” He looked up at you then, clearly offended. “Y/N, I thought we were better friends than that!”

“I’m not – no one’s _dating_ ,” you said, the blush spreading across your cheeks.

He rolled his eyes, taking a long sip from his coffee. “Yeah, sure. The beautiful flowers and cute poem say otherwise.”

The bouquet was indeed beautiful, an assorted display of colorful poppies. You pulled the card from it, finding a small sketch of the Tin Man along with Steve’s usual neat scrawl: _I’ve been tender, I’ve been gentle_ / _And awful sentimental_ / _Regarding love and art_ / _I’ve made friends with all the sparrows_ / _And the hawk that shoots the arrows_ / _But you have stolen my heart_.

The ever-familiar swell of giddiness returned to your chest, and you couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face. Looking back to where your relationship had started, you wouldn’t have believed if someone had said that you would eventually steal the heart of Captain America.

If you were being honest with yourself, he had managed to steal yours, too.

~*~*~*~

“Another round of shots, boys and girls!” Natasha came up to your booth with a tray of tequila, setting it down in the middle of the table.

“No, no.” Steve grimaced as the redhead slid into the booth beside him. “Nat, no more –”

“What’chu on about, Cap?” he questioned. Cameron happily took a glass, already tomato-red in the face. “You’re not even _tipsy_ yet.”

You snickered, watching Steve sputter out an excuse about his high metabolism and _Trust me, I can drink you under the table, Klein_. Natasha rolled her eyes and just shoved a shot into his hand. Reaching for another glass yourself, you couldn’t help but smile at the situation. There was Cameron, you, Steve, and Natasha huddled in a semi-circle booth at the back of the bar, while other off-duty SHIELD agents were milling around the establishment, laughing and drinking and having a good time.

You had never seen Natasha as relaxed as she was in that moment, a half-smirk tugging on her lips while she interrogated her friend. “You can try asking your neighbor out. The nurse?”

Steve made a face, shaking his head. “I’d rather not.”

Natasha suggested, “What about that girl from Accounting? She’s cute.”

“The one with the nose ring?” Steve nonchalantly placed a hand on your thigh under the table, not missing a beat when he answered her question. His pinky ran along the edge of your skirt. “Yeah, I’m not ready for that.”

Cameron threw back his shot, exhaling before turning his attention on you. “How about you, Y/N?” he asked.

“Me?” You gave him a look, dismissive. “What about me, Cam?”

“There’s that guy you’ve been seeing a while, right?” the tech pointed out. He leaned forward on his elbows. “Gave you flowers and everything, but I still don’t know shit about him.”

Natasha angled herself around Steve’s body, brows raised as she looked at you. She inquired, “You’re seeing someone? Who’s the lucky bastard?”

“What’s his name? Is he _ugly_?” Cameron considered, hooking an arm around your neck. Your nose scrunched up at the smell of alcohol on his breath. “If he’s rich, it doesn’t matter that he’s ugly. I want to meet him, though.”

Steve pressed, “Yeah, who _is_ this elusive bastard?” The blond was doing a piss-poor job at hiding the amusement in his voice, grinning like the little shit he was. His hand remained on you, fingers moving to caress your inner thigh teasingly.

God, you wanted to punch him in his perfect teeth.

Sighing, you tossed the tequila shot back, ignoring the burn in your throat. “We’re just private people,” you conceded, “and he’s far from ugly, if you must know.”

“Ah, so you’re in it for the looks,” Natasha concluded, raising her shot before downing it. “That’s my kind of girl!”

Before you could defend yourself, Cameron spoke up: “Nah, nah, Y/N isn’t shallow like that.” He pushed off from you, raising a finger in the redhead’s direction to make a point. “She’s got a type.”

Steve hid his smile by finally taking his shot, pursing his lips after. His eyes flickered up to meet yours when he asked with a smirk, “And what is your ‘type’ exactly, Y/N?”

You held back from narrowing your eyes at the man, lest either Natasha or Cameron get suspicious. Steve’s stare was heavy over you. “He’s… compassionate, kind-hearted.” Your gaze fell to the empty shot glass in your hand, twisting it between your fingers. A smile found its way to your lips. “He’s funny and smart, even though some people don’t really think so.”

Steve kicked you under the table, and you smothered your laugh.

Looking for his blue eyes briefly before looking to Natasha, you finished, “Honestly, the thing I love most is that he’s not afraid to fight for what he believes in, and he’s pretty cute when he wakes up in the morning.”

Natasha snorted, resting her chin on top of her interlocked fingers. “Sounds like this guy’s got you wrapped around his finger, sounding like _that_.”

“Yeah, I think so, too,” you confessed, finding Steve’s hand under the table and weaving your fingers together.

“He sounds like a dingus,” Cameron muttered, leaning back into the booth and smacking his lips. Steve bowed his head, chuckling in spite of himself.

Towards the end of the night, with Cameron absolutely shit-faced, Nat and Steve still coherent, and you feeling the buzz in your head, it was about time to call it a night. Natasha carried Cameron’s arm over her shoulders, already deciding to take him home since they lived close by. “Are you two going to be fine heading out?” she asked as you exited the front doors.

Nodding, you raised a hand and jingled your car keys. “I’m sober enough to drive home.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Steve came up from behind you, snatching the keys from your grip with a look that could rival a disappointed father’s. “You’ve had too much to drink, missy. _I’m_ driving.”

“Steve, I can –”

“Not hearing it,” he bantered, jutting his chin out slightly in defiance.

Cameron drew himself away from Natasha, staggering slightly towards you and Steve. He poked a finger to the larger man’s chest, almost slurring his words. “You know, Steve. I know you’re a good guy – you’re the goodest guy.” Steve’s eyes widened a little, darting back and forth between you and him. You only shrugged, unsure where his little rant was going. “If you pull some shit with my best friend,” Cameron added, “I will _fuck you up_ , America.”

“Okay, Klein, you tell him,” she quipped, shaking her head. You and Natasha started laughing as she walked up to Cameron, grabbing onto his shoulders and pulling him away. The redhead waved her goodbye as she retreated to her vehicle with the curly-haired man in tow.

Steve waited for her to leave the lot before he intertwined his fingers with yours, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. He said, “Let’s get you home, doll.”

You bit your lip as you smiled up at him, relishing in the way his chest rose as he drew a breath when he met your sultry gaze. “Stay the night?”

“You know you already had me with that smile,” he revealed, leaving a kiss on your nose.

The drive was quiet save for the low hum of the car radio. Steve had a hand lazily draped over the steering wheel, while the other stayed firmly held in yours. You watched contentedly as the overhead streetlights painted his face in yellows, casting shadows across his features at intervals.

“Can I tell you something?” Steve asked eventually, breaking the comfortable silence. He turned his head to look at you for a moment, searching. “You look pretty cute waking up in the mornings, too.”

~*~*~*~

“Nat keeps trying to set me up with people,” Steve remarked offhandedly while you two were doing the dishes after breakfast one morning.

Your face scrunched up while you put away the silverware. “Still?” you muttered, glancing at his bare back as he rinsed something in the sink.

“She’s got a list of girls that she thinks would be good for me,” he chuckled, setting aside the wet plates before starting on the cups.

You walked back to his side, raising your brows in interest. Grabbing a dish towel, you inquired, “Has she mentioned _me_ yet?”

Steve smirked, saying, “Maybe. Maybe not.” He laughed when you smacked his arm in response. “You saw her at the bar, she’s _really_ persistent.”

“Her heart’s in the right place at least,” you pressed, holding back a smile. You picked up the clean plates, beginning to wipe them dry. “She probably still thinks you’re miserably lonely.”

He rinsed the cups, flipping them upside down to drain on the rack. “I honestly wonder where she’s getting that, especially with the amount of sex we’ve been hav – Hey!” Steve pouted slightly when you whipped his ass with the towel.

On one hand, he did have a point: With the amount of times you’ve been over at his apartment and him at yours, you two were basically living together. You put away the plates in the proper cupboard before turning back to Steve, questioning, “Nat really hasn’t figured us out?”

Steve shrugged half-heartedly, retorting, “I mean, has anyone _else_?” He turned his focus on the dirty pans filling the sink, lathering them with dish soap.

“Not for their lack of trying,” you said, wiping your hands on your hips. Steve’s t-shirt was gigantic on your much smaller frame, landing just at the tops of your bare thighs. You tugged the hem down a bit before hopping up onto the counter.

He scrubbed the bacon grease from a pan, saying, “For an organization full of spies, they’re either really good at pretending to be oblivious… or maybe, _I’m_ getting good at pretending.” Steve considered it, a look of contemplation washing over his face.

You could only roll your eyes, falling into a comfortable silence with him. The kitchen window was kept closed against the winter chill, but from here you could faintly hear the sounds of passing cars and voices of children walking the snow-slick sidewalk. Steve continued washing the calphalons, humming slightly to himself.

A sudden thought flashed in your head, and you blurted out, “Did you know some of the agents started a betting pool?”

“For what now, exactly?” he asked, amused as ever.

“Remember those flowers you sent to me a while ago?”

Steve turned his whole body to look at you, letting the water run from the faucet. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes… Why?” he answered slowly, as if you had posed a trick question.

“Well, no one could figure out who had them delivered, and someone in Admin started spreading rumors that I sent them _to myself_.” You spared a moment to let Steve laugh, finishing with, “But then someone put money on this cute guy that works in Engineering, and it just got on from there. I hear the pool’s a couple hundred by now.”

Steve rinsed out the pans, hesitating on a response. He blinked at you. “You think someone in the Engineering division is cute?”

You scoffed, “Really? _That’s_ what you got out of everything I just said?”

He smirked again, shutting off the water and placing the pans out to dry. “Did anyone bet on me?”

“Cameron did,” you said, blushing slightly. “But only because he knows how big of a crush I have on you. No one believes him.”

Steve feigned surprise, placing a hand over his naked chest. “Aw, you have a _crush_ on me?”

“Shut up, you jerk.” You hopped off the counter, maneuvering around him to put away the cups. And because the universe had a wicked sense of humor, you barely reached the shelf where Steve usually kept them. You stretched up from the balls of your feet, unsuccessful.

“Need some help?” he asked, the slightest bit of amusement lacing his words. Steve came up from behind, pressing against your back as he stored the cups himself. He snaked his cold hands under the shirt you wore. Goosebumps raised all over your body, and you leaned back into him. When his hand moved to cup your breast, you noted the slowly hardening bulge in his sweatpants.

“Steve,” you warned, breath hitching when he pinched your nipple, “we’re going to be late for work.” You stifled a moan when his other hand slipped past the elastic of your underwear, fingers grazing along your folds. “I have a meeting with –”

“We can spare thirty minutes, right?” he whispered, breath hot against your skin. Steve placed a kiss to your hair before pushing it to one side, mouthing up the back of your neck. He started sucking red marks behind your ear, trailing wet kisses to the juncture of your shoulder.

Your knees shook when he rubbed circles over your clit. You pressed against his bulge slightly, already feeling your body betraying you. “I’ll give you fifteen,” you agreed in defeat, wiggling out of his grip long enough to turn around and bring his mouth down to yours.

“I can work with that,” he huffed against your lips, lifting you back onto the countertop.

Unsurprisingly, the two of you were almost an hour late in arriving to the Triskelion, much to the chagrin of your supervising officers. Nobody minded Steve much (he was Captain America, after all) but Maria Hill had given you a death glare when she saw you rushing through the corridors as she left Director Fury’s office. “You’re late,” she said, eyes narrowing when she gave you a once-over. “You missed the entire briefing. Where the hell have you been?”

“I am so sorry, Hill,” you apologized. You suppressed a groan in the back of your throat, knowing you were skating on thin ice. Quickly thinking of an excuse, you rushed out, “There was an elderly army vet that needed help this morning and I didn’t want to be rude, so I –”

Hill shoved a datapad into your hands, cutting you off. “Fine. Just… _don’t_ make it a habit.” The Commander briefed you over Project Insight without revealing much of its secrets, mostly Fury’s orders. You both descended the main staircase while she gave you the quickest run-down of the prior meeting, explaining the protocols that the technicians needed to be updated on.

You had passed through the control room many times before, but it was always a sight to see. There were techs manning their terminals and the large screen filling the front wall of the theater. You smiled immediately when you noticed Cameron at his station, waving in your direction.

Hill announced, “Can I get Anderson, Klein, and Case with me for a sec? The Director has new protocol he wants your guys to implement immediately.”

The three agents pushed off from their seats, maneuvering around the desks to meet you and Hill at the back of the room, near the servers. As the Commander starting consulting over the updates, Cameron glanced at you before covering a snort with a cough. He looked like he was having a hard time hiding a smile.

Your brows knitted together, and you mouthed out _What_? when he caught your eye. He leaned closer to you, whispering, “You didn’t happen to burn yourself with a hair iron, did you?”

“What? Burn my…?” you whispered just as quietly, making a face in return. Cameron rubbed his neck subtly, nodding in your direction. When you raised a hand to the same spot, it finally clicked in your head – _there were probably red love bites on your skin for the world to see_. As discreetly as possible, you reached to pull out your hair tie and flipped your hair over your shoulders, hopefully covering up the glaring evidence.

Cameron pursed his lips together, trying to listen to Hill as he stood behind the other two techs, but he clearly couldn’t help but tease you some more. He asked quietly, “Am I ever going to meet this guy? It’s been months.”

You could already feel the heat creeping up your neck. “No. Be quiet,” you hissed, kicking the back of his shoe lightly.

He muttered a complaint about you scuffing his new shoes, but just as quickly shut up upon looking over your head. You didn’t even need to follow his line of sight to know what he was looking at; you heard Steve’s very distinct voice saying “Good morning” to passing agents while he walked in with Rumlow’s STRIKE team.

Steve’s eyes lit up when his gaze landed on you, but your eyes had widened instead with horror. Despite the high rise of his tact suit’s collar, there were red marks peeking out from below his ear and under his uniform. He approached after saying something to Jack Rollins, blissfully unaware of the hickeys displayed on his skin.

Blood rushed to your cheeks when Cameron’s mouth fell open in disbelief. It was obvious that he had finally put two and two together, now that he was good and sober. Your friend questioned, “Since when were you… and him…?”

Hill looked up for a moment, saw that you were distracted, and then turned around. Her brows rose up on her forehead, but the look on her face was otherwise neutral. “Captain,” she greeted.

“Morning,” Steve said to your group with a smile. His eyes lingered on Cameron a little longer upon seeing the look on his face. “Everything good there, Cam?”

“I was boutta ask you the same, sir,” Case rebutted, grinning broadly.

Anderson elaborated with, “Hey, Cap, nice hickeys.” They started joking around with Steve, but Hill and Cameron both remained silent. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Steve’s face immediately turned red, his smile faltering. With everyone’s attention on him, you moved your hair ever so slightly to reveal similar bruises on your neck. Different emotions crossed his face at once – pride over his handy work, shame that he didn’t hide it well enough. He tugged on his collar, clearing his throat at the thin-lipped smile you gave him.

“Looks like someone’s getting a Title 18 for the destruction of government property,” Case added, elbowing Steve in the side like he just said the damned funniest thing.

You were absolutely _mortified_ , and you didn’t blame Steve for excusing himself to follow his team when Rollins shouted over his shoulder. The blond placed a not-so-subtle hand to your waist as he passed, and Hill made a sort of satisfied huff seeing the blush on both of your faces.

Cameron still gawked, even as he looked back and forth between you and a retreating Steve. The tech blinked a few more times before shaking his head. “Not gonna lie, Y/N, I don’t know whether to be angry or impressed that you’ve hid it this long.”

The other two techs quieted down when they realized what Cameron was alluding to. Seems like they were part of the bet, too. Anderson was the first to speak, all thought of Project Insight lost to the wind. “You’re shitting me.”

Case exclaimed loud enough to attract the attention of other technicians, “It’s _Rogers_?”

There came a chorus of _Are you fucking serious_ and _Can’t believe that twink called it_ , followed by a handful of techs walking over to Cameron’s assigned station and begrudgingly sliding over some bills.

“Hey!” Hill called over the sea of voices. A tiny smirk played at her lips at the sight of her agents looking like deer in headlights. “Get back to work, all of you. Pay Klein on your own time – losers.”

Cameron snuffed out another laugh, shocked at the Commander’s outburst. Case and Anderson just frowned, grumbling something about Admin screwing them over with “unreliable intel” about you.

When the agents refocused on their tasks, the Commander faced you, brows knitted together. “Elderly army vet, huh?” she teased, referring to your earlier excuse. Your entire face went warm again as you fought back an embarrassed smile.

~*~*~*~

Waking up to him was serene, and you realized early on that Steve was a cuddler. You would revel being surrounded by his warmth, his form flush against your back as the blankets twisted between both of your legs. Most times it would be you holding him, with his arms wrapped around your waist and his face nestled against your neck.

Waking up to his baby blues never failed to make your heart sing, and Steve realized that puppy dog eyes and a lopsided grin could earn him a few extra minutes in your arms in the mornings. You wouldn’t hesitate to run your fingers through his blond hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. Steve’s love for you was written all over his face, his actions, his words. As much as your coworkers would tease, there was no doubt that you loved him back with your entire being.

One early morning, you watched him sleep beside you, with his hair stuck up and his snores quiet. You lay on your side, memorizing the features of his face. Steve always looked adorable, but without the stress of the job creeping on his mind, his expression remained peaceful. Made him look his age.

He cleared his throat, eyes still closed as he said, “A picture’ll last longer.”

A wide grin spread across your lips. “Sure it will,” you whispered, running your fingertips along the bridge of his nose and down to the curve of his lip, “but I like looking at your face.”

Steve chuckled slightly; his voice was still husky from sleep. He wound an arm around your waist, pulling you against his front as he started peppering kisses all over your face. You smiled into the kiss when his lips finally found yours. When he opened his eyes and his gaze focused on you, you swore that your heart skipped a beat.

The two of you remained in the embrace, just staring at each other. Steve drew circles into your skin with his fingertips while you carded your fingers through his hair. You watched his expression go from contented to determined, and you wondered what was going on in his mind.

“What is it?”

After tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, Steve professed for the first time, “I love you.”

Many people would vow that uttering those three words were scary. Others swear that time stopped when they did. However, hearing those words hadn’t frozen you in shock. If anything, you were surer of those three words than anything in your life.

You pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips, short and sweet. “I love you, too, Stevie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: also thanks to [chucks_prophet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet) for helping me make sense of this chapter lol


	2. The Sky'd Be Falling While I'd Hold You Tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If the world was ending  
> You'd come over right  
> The sky'd be falling while I'd hold you tight  
> No there wouldn't be a reason why  
> We would even have to say goodbye"  
> \- JP Saxe ft. Julia Michaels, _If the World Was Ending_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 15,149
> 
> A/N: I got a little side-tracked with other writing challenge entries but I genuinely hope that you enjoy this final chapter!! God, I loved writing supportive!Reader because Steve just needs to be taken care of sometimes, adlisdbflsdb
> 
> Sorry it took so long to get out, but trust me, it is WORTH IT. Tags have also been updated accordingly. This one's definitely been one of my most favorite stories to write so far, I'm so soft for Steve and Reader ^-^ (There's a POV switch to Steve around Civil War, just FYI)

The days turned to weeks, and before you knew it, December had come and gone. Cameron had used the pool money to get you and Steve some cheesy couples’ merch for your first public Christmas together (“This just says, ‘If lost, please return to Captain America’.” “Steve, look! This one says, ‘I’m Captain America’! Cam, these are adorable.”). Natasha was still more surprised than anything that he had managed to swipe _you_ off the market.

The New Year celebration in D.C. was something for the books, with crowds in the thousands watching the fireworks, and a stellar midnight kiss from the one man brave enough to call himself your boyfriend. For a moment, your world was perfect.

And before you knew it, your whole world had come crashing down, too. One day you were with Steve at the hospital, mourning the death of Director Fury after an attack at the apartment. The next, Secretary Alexander Pierce was declaring him a fugitive from SHIELD.

Jasper Sitwell had cornered you outside of the control room when you’d demanded an explanation for the manhunt, his tone ever hostile. “Don’t believe for a second that I forgot about you and Rogers’ little _relationship_ ,” he said threateningly. “If I find out that you’re helping him in any way –”

“I’m not stupid, Sitwell,” you spat, straightening up, “and you don’t scare me, either.”

“Good. Don’t be another thorn in my side, and we won’t have a problem.” You glowered at each other, silent, before he broke eye contact and stomped off to probably go lick Pierce’s boots. _What a prick_ , you thought.

Cameron noticed the anger in your eyes when you returned to the main control room, and all he said was, “Hey, Steve’ll be fine.”

You frowned, shaking your head. “He’d better _pray_ I don’t find him first, because I’m going to kill him for leaving me behind.”

Over the next three days, the control room techs and other available personnel like yourself were ordered to track Steve and Natasha when they went rogue. Rumlow had STRIKE on the ground following them, and you did everything you could to hinder the search without being _too_ obvious. Within two days, you had become very good at scrambling data and creating false reports right under their noses.

Unfortunately, that still didn’t keep them from launching a missile to destroy a bunker at Camp Lehigh in an attempt to get rid of them.

When the building-wide PA turned on during the third day, and Steve’s voice had come through it, you masked the wave of emotions rolling through you. Surprise and confusion. Anger was one, but a deep-seated feeling of absolute relief washed it clean away.

“ _Attention all SHIELD agents, this is Steve Rogers. You’ve heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down, but I think it’s time you know the truth._ ”

The control room silenced almost immediately. Some shared curious and equally confused glances.

“ _SHIELD isn’t what we thought it was. It’s been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The STRIKE and Insight crew are HYDRA as well. I don’t know how many more, but I know they’re in the building. They could be standing right next to you._ ”

Murmurs started from the numerous agents, and you could feel the tension thickening in the theater. Your heart dropped down into your stomach when your eyes met Cameron’s; your skin crawled at the mere thought…

“ _They almost have what they want, absolute control. They shot Nick Fury, and it won’t end there. If you launch those Helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone who gets in their way, unless we stop them._ ”

The room had remained hushed, even as each and every person looked around at their colleagues. Their friends. You stood up from your terminal, your hand hovering at your sidearm.

“ _I know I’m asking a lot. The price of freedom is high; it always has been. And it’s a price I’m willing to pay. And if I’m the only one, then so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not._ ”

Multiple footsteps echoed in the silence. Rumlow and two of his STRIKE agents had entered from the far door, with him walking down the rows completely unfazed over being ousted. He stopped behind Cameron, demanding, “Preempt the launch sequence. Send those ships up now.”

He was hesitant to look back at Rumlow, then stealing a glance at you over his shoulder. Cameron tensed up, facing forward.

“Is there a problem?” the agent questioned.

“I –” Your friend shook his head, knowing all eyes were watching, waiting on him to make a decision. Hesitantly, you took a step in their direction.

Rumlow barked again, “Is there a _problem_?”

“Sorry, sir.” Cameron took a few breaths, a look of resolution painting his features. He replied surely, “I’m not going to launch those ships… Captain’s orders.”

Rumlow grabbed his gun from its holster, aiming it at the back of Cameron’s head just as you’d reached for your own. “Move away from your station.”

“Like he said,” you began, steeling yourself as you raised your pistol to his temple. You met Rumlow’s eye, taking a breath to steady your hand. “Captain’s orders.”

The other SHIELD agents drew their guns, some aiming at Rumlow while others were trained on the STRIKE group behind you. “You picked the wrong side, L/N,” Rumlow snarled, pushing the barrel of his gun against Cameron’s head.

“Depends on where you’re standing,” you hissed back.

The world had stood still, and you could hear your blood pumping in your ears. And then, Rumlow lowered his gun, letting it clatter to the floor. Your relief was short-lived.

You barely had time to react when he had brandished a knife, slicing your forearm and forcing you to the ground. Bullets started raining as the STRIKE group shot down the other agents, the sound thunderous in the room. Almost on instinct, you kicked Cameron’s chair from under him, pushing him away from the gun discharge not a moment too soon.

The two of you rolled under the tables to avoid the gunfire, and you dragged another agent with you. You reached for a discarded pistol on the ground before crawling back out, aiming for Rumlow’s head as he ducked behind a computing station. You blocked your face when one of the screens in front of you shattered to pieces.

And just as fast as they arrived, the STRIKE team members were gone. The sound of retreating boots marked the end of the fight.

Cautiously, you got to your feet, and only some of the remaining agents began to stir. A couple agents forced themselves to their knees, wincing at wounds they’d sustained. Others checked on their fallen friends. Cameron slowly pulled himself from under the table, visibly shaken. You looked around, saddened after counting only eight others alive.

“Y/N?” Cameron said quietly, surveying the surroundings. His face crumpled at the sight of unmoving bodies. “Y/N, what do we do?”

You checked the number of bullets you had left in your magazine, sighing. “It’s probably too risky to go to medical. Who knows how many HYDRA agents there are?” From the guns left on the ground, you collected and pocketed a few extra clips.

“We need to head to Rally Point Delta,” Anderson sniffed, standing up. The look on his face said everything; you recognized the lifeless body of Agent Case at his feet.

Alarms started going off in the compound, ordering an evacuation of all personnel. Those of you without injuries helped the others who were shot, making a beeline to the safety zones. The courtyards were filled with SHIELD agents rushing around, and you stopped in your tracks when you saw the rising Helicarriers in the sky.

“Fuck.” You looked around, trying to catch sight of the control towers. You reloaded your magazine and headed towards the buildings.

“Y/N, where are you going?” Cameron called after you, bearing the weight of an injured agent.

“Where do you think?” You flashed a toothy grin at him. “I’m going to help Captain America.”

You made your way to the tower, finding Maria Hill alone with the bodies of agents littering the floors. The two of you had your guns trained on each other, unsure of where your loyalties lay. You flinched when she shot in your direction without hesitation, shock filling your bones when you heard the body of a HYDRA agent fall behind you.

“Good shit,” you huffed out in a curse, lowering your gun to your holster. “How’d you know you wouldn’t hit me?”

Hill answered, shrugging, “It was a fifty-fifty shot.”

You stared at her, jaw slacking. “On _what_?”

“If you were HYDRA and I _did_ clip you – two birds, one bullet.”

“We need to work on your people skills, Commander.”

~*~*~*~

Sam Wilson was a nice guy, dependable. He had kept Steve alive and fought at his side, in the end. He was with Natasha and a very not-dead Director Fury when they rescued Steve from the side of the Potomac River. You had met him in the hallway by chance while the nurses tended to your boyfriend, who was still unconscious after the battle over the Triskelion.

“You know, Steve never shut up about you,” Sam mentioned, smiling behind his cup of coffee. He glanced over at the blinds of the private room windows, to the shifting shadows of armed guards patrolling the hospital floor, ordered to protect their VIP guest.

You sipped at the watered-down coffee, shaking your head in amusement. “Only good things, I hope,” you said, turning your head to watch Steve as he slept. From your seat beside his bed, you could clearly see the angry reds and purples of the bruises on his face, the swelling of his lip, the stitches on his cheek and mouth.

Sam must have noticed the apprehensive expression on your face from across the room because the next thing he said was, “He’s in great hands, Y/N. He’ll recover fast.”

“I know,” you started, letting go of a sigh, “but I still worry. It never gets easier, seeing him like this.” Despite appearing like he had the hell beat out of him, Steve looked significantly better now than he did when the paramedics had first brought him in. You weren’t sure if you were happy about it or not.

“How long have you known each other?” Sam inquired curiously, changing the subject. He got up to throw his empty cup in the waste basket.

“Met him towards the end of 2011 when he first came out of the ice.” You smiled, looking at him from the corner of your eye. Teasingly, you added, “But I know what you’re really asking. We’ve been together a little over a year now.”

Sam seemed to consider that, wagging his eyebrows. “So, is dating Captain America all it’s cracked up to be?”

With a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, you answered, “Dating _Steve Rogers_ has been, definitely.” You reached forward for his hand, careful with the inserted IV line and the healing skin of his knuckles.

After a few silent moments: “…you’re not lying to Sam just for me, are you?” Steve’s question was quiet, rough, strained slightly as he came-to. He winced when he turned his head to face you, the look of discomfort melting away into a smile when his eyes met yours. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Hi, handsome,” you greeted softly, returning his smile. “How are you feeling?”

Steve took in a few breaths, stretching out all his fingers and toes. He squeezed your hand lightly. He cleared his throat, croaking out, “Not so bad. It probably looks worse than it is.”

You chuckled, “Oh, yeah. The hospital gown looks _so_ hot on you.”

Sam got to his feet then, shoving a hand into his pocket. He looked between the two of you. With a knowing grin, he offered, “I think I’ll head down to the cafeteria, grab a pudding cup.”

“Sam.” Steve angled forward to face the man, nodding to him solemnly. There was a silent acknowledgement that passed between them that you aimed to ask about later.

“Holler if you need me,” he said in singsong, closing the door as he left the room.

You stood from the less than comfortable hospital chair, leaning over Steve and placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Just so you know, I told Cam that I was going to murk you myself if you didn’t die saving the world and all.”

“Getting offed by you?” A small smile pulled at his lips as his eyes met yours. “Worth it.”

You rolled your eyes overdramatically, glad that he was apparently in good spirits. The tightness in your chest dissipated somewhat now that he was awake and talking. “You’ve had a very busy few days,” you said in stride, sliding your fingers along his jaw in a light caress.

“Feels a lot longer.”

You hummed under your breath, saying pointedly, “Maybe next time you don’t become a fugitive without me, alright? Promise?”

Steve looked… sad. Remorseful, with something else in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. He looked like he wanted to say so many things but wasn’t sure where to start. The corners of his lips turned down in a frown as he whispered, “Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“Baby…”

“I shouldn’t have left you,” he continued, his voice breaking at the confession. Steve’s eyes shined with tears he tried to hold back. “I just couldn’t risk – I had to keep you safe.”

Your heart ached at his words, and all you were able to do was wipe the rogue tears that slipped down his cheek. His grip on your hand tightened, and you squeezed back just as fervently. “I forgive you, Steve. It’s okay.”

Steve inhaled a shaky breath as you began to brush back his hair, his eyes closing at the touch. He remained silent, making room for you beside him. You gingerly maneuvered your way onto the hospital bed, apologizing every two seconds even though he made no sound in protest.

You tucked your legs under you as you pressed against his side, sliding your arm behind his head to drape over his shoulders. Steve immediately buried his face against your neck, nuzzling your shoulder like he was trying to fill his lungs with the very scent of you. The two of you stayed like that for a while; listening to your breathing, feeling your hearts beat in tandem.

You felt the warmth of his tears on your skin before you realized he had even started crying. He covered his mouth in an attempt to smother a sob, but when you wrapped your arms around him, Steve’s whole body shook as he let his resolve go. Playing with his hair absentmindedly, you turned slightly to press a sincere “I love you” to his hairline.

~*~*~*~

Steve had been mostly healed the following morning, itching to get on his feet and out the door. However, with a suggestion from his doctor for one more night of observation and a firm glare from you, he figured staying a little longer wouldn’t kill anyone. Sam had been kind enough to grab you both a change of clothes from Steve’s still-wrecked apartment.

At the very least, the extra day in the hospital stomped out your worry over his recovery. It allowed him to tell you more about what happened during his run from the organization, including his personal mission to find the Winter Soldier. And, of course, it gave you the opportunity to get reacquainted with each other, behind the privacy of closed blinds.

It was sweet, innocent; the kind of kisses shared between young couples in the back seat of a car while they’d be parked in a drive-in movie theater. It was slow, tongues brushing against each other, teeth nipping lightly at lips kissed red. You were drunk on the taste of Steve, heady and familiar. The swarm of butterflies in your stomach were near constant as you kissed him, mouth slotting against his own.

You were all but curled up against his body, wearing a pair of pajama shorts and one of Steve’s gargantuan hoodies. The fingers on his left hand roamed the exposed skin of your legs draped over his lap, trailing from your knee to the edge of your shorts but never further. You had an arm wrapped around his shoulders, hand freely combing through his hair. As you breathed him in, it was like you couldn’t tell where he stopped and where you started.

A breathy moan escaped you after Steve suddenly pulled away, dipping his head to mouth along the side of your neck until he sucked deep red bruises into your skin. You swallowed down a yelp when he grabbed your waist and moved you straddle him as if you weighed nothing. “Warn a girl, would you?” you teased, feeling the loose grip of his hands on your hips.

You always thought that blue eyes were beautiful, but no one had Steve’s exact azure blue with rods of sea green, expressive as all hell. Even with the bluest of eyes, there was a certain fire that burned within them. Steve leaned back into the pillows, looking up at you with eyes half-lidded and lips parted in a smile.

The ghost of a smirk danced on your own mouth, and you held his healing face between your hands. Your thumbs grazed over the pinking skin where the stitches used to be. Quietly, you mused, “What’s going on in that head of yours, Rogers?”

“I just…” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Steve’s brows pulled together slightly, the corners of his mouth falling. “You won’t leave me, right?”

You blinked a few times, unable to hide the shock on your face. This was… new. You had never known him to be the insecure type, at least no more than anyone else. For a moment, you wanted to ask how much the HYDRA and Winter Soldier thing had really affected him but thought better of it.

“Never,” you said with a firm conviction, looking him directly in the eyes.

You spent the rest of the night making sure he knew it, too.

~*~*~*~

After being discharged from the hospital, the first place Steve dragged you and Sam to ended up being a cemetery. You were silently confused as you stood by Director Fury’s newly plotted grave – that was until you saw him walking in your direction.

“So, you’ve experienced this sort of thing before,” Fury said without greeting, staring down at his own headstone.

Sure, if you can count being frozen for nearly seventy years and very briefly faking your death ‘experience.’ A reserved smile found its way onto Steve’s lips. “You get used to it.”

Fury began talking about the datamining of HYDRA files, revealing that a lot of agents had slipped through the cracks, unsurprisingly. “I’m headed to Europe tonight,” he noted. “Wanted to ask for you to come.”

Steve seemed to consider it before saying, “There’s something I gotta do first.”

To Sam, he offered, “What about you, Wilson? I could use a man with your abilities.”

“I’m more of a soldier than a spy,” Sam replied.

Fury turned to you last, and even though he was wearing dark sunglasses, you felt his gaze as prominent as ever. “Hill mentioned you were thinking of following her. Don’t think I could convince you otherwise?”

You smiled slightly, noting the small upturn of his lips. “Sorry, sir,” you expressed, “but I think I’m needed here.” Steve’s hand found yours, automatically linking your fingers together.

“Alright, then.” Fury reached out to shake each of your hands in farewell. You released Steve’s briefly to do so. “If anyone asks for me, tell them they could find me… right here,” he said, nodding down to the grave.

As he turned to leave, Natasha appeared from a few paces away, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “You should be honored. That’s the closest he gets to saying thank-you.”

“Not going with him?” you inquired, pulling Steve with you as you walked in her direction.

Natasha smiled in amusement, shaking her head. “ _No_ ,” she stretched out.

Steve assumed then, “Not staying here.”

“Nah. I blew all my covers. I have to figure out a new one.”

“That might take a while,” he mused.

“I’m counting on it.” She looked between the two of you before smiling at your joined hands. Natasha shifted a thick file from her grip, holding it out to Steve. “That thing you asked for. I called in a few favors from Kiev.”

He took it with his free hand, his eyes roaming over the Russian letters printed across the front.

“Do me a favor,” Natasha began, her soft glare almost a warning. Her eyes flickered to you briefly. “Take care of each other.”

Steve angled his head to you, grinning when you met his eyes. Your chest filled with the same warmth it always did whenever he smiled. “I promise,” he said, more to himself than in response.

You wrapped an arm around Natasha’s shoulders when she pulled you into a hug, and then moved to press a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Be careful, Steve,” she said, walking away. “You might not want to pull on that thread.”

He stared at the thick file folder in his hands, his knuckles going white with his tense grip. You raised a comforting hand between his shoulders, rubbing circles into his back as he opened it. A letter-sized photograph was pinned to the cover, of what you assumed was a cryo-chamber encasing an unconscious Winter Soldier. Paperclipped to the bottom of it was an old army photo of one James Buchanan Barnes. Your heart hurt for him, for both of them.

For Steve, who lost his best friend twice. For Bucky, a hero who lived long enough to be framed as a villain.

~*~*~*~

“Y/N? What was Fury talking about, back at the cemetery?”

“Which part?” you called out, replacing the cleaning supplies under Steve’s sink. “I don’t re – oh, _fuck_ me.” You winced as you pulled yourself from the cabinets, rubbing at the sore spot on top of your head.

When you got to your feet, you could clearly see Steve’s whole body turning towards you from the couch, a sympathetic grin dancing on his lips. Amusement gleamed in his eyes as he asked, “You good?”

“Fuck your sink,” you spat under your breath, shuffling over from the kitchen. “I’m seeking reparations, old man.”

“My poor baby girl,” he teased. Steve gathered papers back into Bucky’s file before leaving it on the coffee table, leaning back into the couch cushions. As you went to sit beside him, his hands fell to your knees, moving them across his lap.

You propped yourself against the armrest, contentment settling into your chest as you studied his side profile. Returning to the question at hand: “So, Fury?”

“He said you were thinking about following Hill?” Steve had a hand on your calf, his thumb caressing your skin. A subtle crease appeared between his brows.

“Oh. That.”

“Yeah,” he pressed, “ _that_. Where exactly are you going?”

“Well, I…”

Steve didn’t say a word as you hesitated, but his expression didn’t falter either. He kept his attention on you, waiting expectantly. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks under his gaze.

Sighing, you revealed, “I’ve got a job interview with Stark Industries.”

His brows rose up on his forehead, eyes widening dramatically. An array of emotions graced his face: disbelief, confusion, understanding, relief. “Oh, you had me thinking you were leaving me forever.”

“Did you forget already? I’m not going anywhere.”

The tension in Steve’s body seemed to dissipate as he guided you to sit on his lap. You draped your arms over his shoulders, fingers carding through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Before you could move to close the gap between you, a sad sigh escaped your lips when your own words actually reached you.

Steve’s eyes blinked open; his mouth still pursed in a waiting kiss. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot that I have to fly to California to interview with HR.”

“For how long?”

“Just a couple days.”

“Two _days_?”

You deadpanned, “You left me for _three_ , remember?”

Steve lowered his head, blinking back up at you from under his thick eyelashes. His bottom lip jutted out in a childish pout, making him look like a kicked puppy. “Said I was sorry.”

_Oh, what a shithead_. He knew you couldn’t stay mad at that face.

“Remind me how sorry you are again,” you challenged. You pursed your lips together to fight a growing smile. A glint shined in his eye as he captured your mouth, hugging you close to him when he moved to press you back against the couch cushions.

Steve bit at your lips, licking into your mouth. Goosebumps rose on your skin as his fingers found their way into your hair, and he pulled a groan out of you when his tongue prodded at the roof of your mouth. The taste of him was intoxicating, and for a moment, it was as if he was filling all of your senses.

Your boyfriend pulled away just too soon, leaving you absolutely breathless as he began to trail wet kisses along your jaw. “I’m sorry,” he breathed against your skin, mouthing against the line of your neck. Your breath hitched when he nipped down the column of your throat and laved over the light bites with his tongue. “I love you.”

Reaching to pull him back up to you, you gripped his chin between your fingers. You smiled into the kiss that was more teeth than lips, mumbling against him, “I know.”

~*~*~*~

The hiring process at Stark Industries was surprisingly thorough; the background checks were extensive, which made sense, considering the whole issue with the fall of SHIELD and everything else going to shit around Tony Stark. Ironically enough, neither he nor his company got off scot-free when the government started pointing fingers and claiming that they were a front working for HYDRA. They’d scrutinized everything from his involvement with the Avengers Initiative all the way back to his father’s co-founding of SHIELD.

The final round of group interviews was slightly intimidating though, mostly because Tony Stark was in the room the entire time. He didn’t ask any questions, having delegated them to the recruiters. Despite that, his presence was felt by you and the other three ex-SHIELD agents beside you. Hill had mentioned in passing that he was doing Fury a favor by picking them up from the ashes, but Steve’s theory was that Stark really was just that nice (even if he never showed it outwardly).

The recruiter was wrapping up the interview questions and beginning the exit spiel when Stark shifted in his seat, interrupting. “Actually, I do have one question for you all…” He leaned forward onto the conference table, locking eyes with all interviewees for a mere moment. In a serious voice, he asked, “Have you ever been involved with HYDRA?”

Immediately, the others responded with meager _absolutely not_ ’s and _never, sir_ ’s before you could even open your mouth. _Are you fucking kidding? Dumbasses, the lot of them._ You couldn’t help the incredulous expression that appeared on your face, one that the man clearly noticed.

“Problem, Ms. L/N?” Stark inquired, raising a brow. “Or, perhaps you’ve got something to share with the class?”

You met his eye, smiling kindly. “No problem, Mr. Stark.”

“Then, let me ask again: Have you ever been involved with HYDRA?”

The gaze of the three agents and the recruiter fell on your form, sitting at the end of the table. An unbothered smile was on your lips as you answered with a shrug, “Technically, we all have.”

It was silent for only two heartbeats before Stark cackled. A broad smirk formed across his face as he shook his head. “Now I see why Cap likes you so much,” he said casually.

~*~*~*~

Over the next few months, Steve kept himself preoccupied with chasing leads on Bucky and lingering HYDRA cells, while you busied yourself with your job at Stark Industries. You and Hill had integrated into the New York branch seamlessly, tasked with working alongside Tony on reestablishing the Avengers as a private organization.

Your list of responsibilities involved giving Steve an assist whenever a trail went cold, utilizing the SI servers to gather information for him. At least then, talking with him over a video call lessened the feeling of deep longing whenever he was on the other side of the world.

“ _We lost Bucky somewhere in Romania_ ,” Steve said dejectedly one day. “ _Looks like he’s getting better at covering his tracks._ ”

“It was hard enough finding him when he _wasn’t_ actively avoiding you.” You pressed your lips together, drumming your fingers on the console as you watched your boyfriend’s face fall. “I can have JARVIS re-up the calculations again,” you offered.

Steve shook his head. “ _Don’t bother. The Quinjet needs a refuel soon, and I don’t quite enjoy the thought of dropping out of the sky. Besides…_ ” A swoon-worthy grin appeared on his lips. “ _I miss my best girl._ ”

“ _He ain’t lying either, if you were wonderin’_ ,” Sam interrupted, popping up beside Steve to poke his head into frame. He was still wearing his Falcon uniform, sans the paratrooper wings. “ _Y/N, you have no idea how much he’s_ whined _over the last two weeks –_ ”

You stifled your laughter when Steve shoved him away, brows knitted together. “ _Hey, man, we were having a moment._ ”

“ _Oh, my bad,_ ” he said from off-screen. “ _Did I step on your moment?_ ”

The two of them started bickering back and forth jokingly when another call from within the building popped up on the screen. Clint Barton’s face greeted you as his feed opened beside Steve’s, taking up half of the screen.

“ _Y/N, how big are your hands?_ ” he questioned, eyes looking off to the side as if staring at something in front of him.

“I’m… sorry?” you replied intelligently, slipping on a mask of confusion.

Over Clint’s feed, you could faintly hear the voices of doctors Bruce Banner and Helen Cho. “ _Your hands, dude_ ,” he repeated. “ _Can they fit into a pipe cylinder, you think?_ ”

“That’s a little random. Why do you need to know if –?”

Steve turned back to the feed, saying, “ _Did you pick up another call?_ ”

You cursed under your breath, eyes flickering between the two men. To Steve, you explained, “Sorry, babe, I gotta go… prevent a fire, or something. See you later? When do you guys get back?”

A questioning expression found its way onto Steve’s face, and you wondered if he was going to ask what the hell was going on at the Tower before he shook his head. “ _ETA less than eight hours. I’ll, uh… leave you to douse the fires. Love you, doll._ ”

“Love you, Stevie,” you replied with a smile. As his feed blinked out, Clint’s expanded to replace the entire screen. Your smile slowly disappeared when you saw the playful smirk on his lips. “What?”

Clint’s eyes twinkled with mirth as he teased, “ _Nothing. You guys are just sickeningly sweet. I love you too, by the way_.”

“Oh, shut up, Hawkass,” you huffed, feeling heat creep up on your cheeks.

A rumble of laughter erupted from him before: “ _Seriously, come up to the lab. The squints need help before they end up paying Stark for ruining more of his shit_.” And then he signed off. You let out a loud sigh, shaking your head in resigned amusement.

The little circle of friends you’d made for yourself expanded significantly once the team started to drop in sporadically at Avengers Tower. Clint and Natasha would come and go like they ran through revolving doors for a living; Thor had returned from Asgard for some time (destroying Greenwich in the process). Bruce and Tony, they were… Well. The self-proclaimed Science Bros were always tinkering down in the workshop or blowing something up in the lab.

With Steve also in the mix, it was safe to say that nothing was ever boring working with the Avengers.

~*~*~*~

You could only watch in awe as Tony tutted under his breath, throwing a look to Steve that many other men wouldn’t dare try. They’d been arguing back and forth for a solid five minutes at this point, both looking like they would keep up the fight to their last breath.

“I already told you, Cap,” Tony sighed, “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Tony, I can’t even afford to get an apartment in _Brooklyn_ ,” Steve pressed, frown settled on his mouth. “There is no way I’d be able to pay for the whole _floor_ –”

“This _is_ the Avengers Tower, right?” the genius inquired needlessly, mostly to make a point. “And you _are_ an Avenger, _right_?”

The super-soldier puffed out a breath, his frown deepening. “Yes, but I –”

“Rogers, you are _breaking_ my heart here. Why do you have to be so difficult?” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a deep sigh that anyone who’s had to put up with Steve’s righteousness knew by heart. “There are more floors in this building than I know to do with, but this one is _yours_. And I’ve already – ah-ah, no, _shut up_ –” Tony raised a finger at Steve when he opened his mouth again “– Wilson’s already clearing out your place in D.C., so you can move in permanently.”

Steve’s eyes almost bugged out of their sockets, and it took everything in you not to laugh. His head swiveled to where you sat on the soft-leather sectional couch, questioning harshly, “Did you know about this? _And not tell me?_ ”

Tony made a face like he’d been caught right in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel, breathing out a quiet _yeesh_. He folded his hands behind his back, slowly stepping in the direction of the elevator. “Right, wow, looks like you two have some things to figure out, that of which I do not incline to take part.” Before he turned on his heel, Tony pointed then gave a thumbs up to Steve. “So, you’re staying? Good. _Adios_.”

You’d thrown one pleading look at Tony before the elevator doors slid closed – just how the hell did he _move_ so fast, that bastard – and your boyfriend fixed a stern look at you. Neither of you spoke until he raised a brow, prompting you to say, “At least this apartment isn’t still riddled with bullet holes.”

“ _Y/N_ ,” Steve groaned, unceremoniously plopping himself down beside you on the sofa.

“And you’re only, like, twelve floors above me!” you added quickly, hoping to convince him to stay. “That’s better than five hours, and you know it.”

Steve worried the corner of his mouth between his teeth, huffing indignantly through his nose. His brows remained knitted together as he looked around at the wide, open flooring of the apartment, quiet. “The place is still way too big just for me to be living here,” he grumbled, almost glaring at a spot in the plush carpet like it had offended him in some way.

“So unfortunate,” you sighed sarcastically, falling back into the couch cushions. You laced your fingers together, pillowing your head with them. “How could you ever live with such an _awful_ burden?”

His gaze had softened significantly following the roll of his eyes, the hint of a smile tugging on his lips. Steve turned his head to look at you, smiling up at him with a tongue-in-cheek kind of grin; whatever he was going to argue died on his tongue when your eyes locked onto one another. He considered you with a look, his blue eyes clearly burning with affection.

Softly, he proposed, “Move in with me.”

“What?” you squawked.

Your response was immediate, a reflex. His request was quick, maybe your ears were messing with you. Your own brows drew upwards as the skepticism flooded your mind. Had you heard him right? There was no way he actually asked you to –

“I’m serious,” Steve said, a faint blush painting his cheeks. He glanced down to his knees before looking up, suddenly self-conscious. “I won’t fight having to live here, but only if you agree to move in with me.”

Dumb blinks were really the only response you could give him now that your brain was short-circuiting. Steve was asking you to move in. To live with him, _together_. This was a huge step from merely sharing keys to your old apartments. Not that you and Steve weren’t already committed to each other, in love with each other, but moving-in would be… _Commitment_.

You sat up again, rocking forward until you could grab Steve’s face in between your hands. You pressed your lips together feverishly, feeling your heart swell with excitement and happiness when he returned the kiss just as enthusiastically.

After nearly three years with the big, lovable doofus, _it was about time_.

~*~*~*~

It was a perfect day. The skies were blue, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and there were just enough people meandering through Greenwich Village for ample people-watching. You and Steve had managed to snag one of the small tables outside of Caffé Reggio, a well-preserved coffeehouse from the late-1920’s. The conversation between you two had tapered out comfortably as you dove into your tablet and Steve worked on some new sketches.

You raised your coffee cup to your mouth for a moment, doing a double take when you realized that Steve was staring at you. The pencil in his hand hovered above the sketchbook pages as he took you in, his mouth curved in an absentminded half-smile. You blushed despite yourself, feeling the intensity of his gaze.

Before you could get a question past your lips, Steve breathed out a soft laugh. “Do you know what I just realized?”

“No,” you said, “but I have a feeling you’ll tell me anyway.”

Steve rolled his eyes at that sarcastic quip, bumping his knees with yours under the table. His smile grew into a wide grin as he revealed, “It only took three years, but you finally agreed to let me take you out on that coffee date.”

Your face scrunched up in absolute confusion, until the most humiliating memories flashed forward and hit you all at once. You had shoved the recollection of awkwardly rejecting the man twice in one night so far back into your mind that you had completely forgotten.

“Oh, my _God_ ,” you gasped, eyes widening. “Oh, no. You just – oh, my God!”

And then, he was laughing so hard that nearly everyone within earshot turned to stare. You could only bury your face in your hands, hiding from the embarrassment. When you peeked between your fingers, Steve was wiping tears from his eyes, shoulders still shaking every few seconds.

“Y/N, c’mon,” he snickered, reaching forward to twist your fingers together. Steve pulled your hands down, smiling so sweetly that it nearly wiped the pout straight off your lips. He leaned across the table to kiss away your frown, and that did just as well. “I didn’t mean it, doll.”

“I hate you, Steve Rogers,” you said with a smile.

The sunlight hit his eyes as he sat back in his seat, the blue color of his irises almost shining, and you could have sworn that your heart stuttered at the sight. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles as he breathed out an overwhelmingly loving, “I love you so much, Y/N L/N.”

~*~*~*~

Your boyfriend was back from the Avengers mission a lot later than you’d expected, but it didn’t matter. (Except it did, just a little, because you’d been growing more nervous by the hour just waiting for him to come home.)

“Stevie? That you?” you called out from your shared bedroom.

“In the kitchen!” he shouted back faintly, followed by the familiar sounds of the fridge door opening and closing.

You looked in the full-length mirror one last time, taking a steadying breath. The jacket of Steve’s military dress greens were gigantic on your shoulders but fell just below your bare thighs, the sleeves reaching past your fingertips. His army service cap sat loosely on your head, so big that it kept slipping forward.

Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you marched barefoot down the hallway to greet him. As you turned the corner to the kitchen, you started, “Welcome home, baby, I have a surp – _Steve!_ What did I say about drinking straight from the carton?”

His eyes grew as wide as saucers when his gaze landed on you wearing his clothes, choking violently on the milk that had snorted up his nose. Steve twisted in the general direction of the sink, coughing and sputtering as he fought to get some air into his lungs. He managed a wheezing “ _holy shit_ ” as he wiped his face with the back of his combat glove.

“Are you okay?” you questioned in concern, stepping toward him. You reached up to finish wiping the remaining drops of milk from his chin, freezing when his hand wrapped firmly around your wrist. The texture of his glove was rough against your skin.

“M’fine,” he breathed. Having regained his composure, Steve turned to face you fully, lowering your hands but not loosening his grip. This close, you could see his pupils had already blown wide, barely a sliver of blue ringing around the blackness. Heat creeped up your neck as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, moving to run his fingertips down the lapel of the jacket, grazing over the newly shined USSR pins and insignias.

“What’d I do to have you all dolled up in my old uniform, huh?” A playful grin graced his lips, and you almost went weak at the knees. Steve tugged on his service ribbons on the left breast pocket, mouth pursing slightly when he noticed you’d left the front unbuttoned.

A finger hooked under your chin, and he dipped his head to press a starved kiss to your mouth. You gripped at the front of his uniform, your hands dancing across the star on his chest to tug him closer by the shield harness on his shoulders.

Against your lips he mumbled, “It’s not my birthday, is it?”

“Of course, it’s –” You pulled away from him then, brows rising on your forehead. “Wait, did you _really_ forget it was your birthday? There’s Fourth of July shit _everywhere_.”

He blinked once, speechless. “Uhh… It’s been a busy – _week_.” Steve let out a punched-out groan at the last word as you kneeled down in front of him, your eyes never leaving his. With one firm push, you had him leaning against the granite counter.

“Then, let me… remind you.” Your hands skimmed up his legs, squeezing his thighs through the thick nylon of his trousers. The bill of the service cap fell over your eyes when you looked up, and you pushed it back, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You ghosted over his crotch, curling your fingers around the buckle on his belt. “Let me blow you –”

“Y/N…”

“ _With_ the suit on.”

His mouth fell silent as the buckle clicked and the front of his pants was zipped open. From the corner of your eye, you noticed him grip the edge of the counter when you palmed over the bulge tenting the front of his trousers. A tingle of satisfaction ran over your skin when you tugged his pants and boxers down to reveal his already half-hard cock.

You took him in hand, stroking with a loose fist while you leaned forward to leave featherlight kisses to the tip. Steve huffed out a nearly inaudible curse, twitching as your tongue laved around his cockhead with small kitten licks. He smelled of musk and leather, tasted of sweat and salt from pre-cum. Your eyes flickered back up to meet his, watching his chest rise and fall with already shallow breaths when you licked up the side of his shaft before pulling him into the heat of your mouth.

Steve groaned low in his chest, eyes falling closed as you hollowed your cheeks. He’d hardened incredibly fast under your ministrations. His hips canted forward slightly, almost an aborted thrust, and you slacked your jaw and took him just a bit further. You moaned around him, prodding the tip of your tongue along the underside of his cock.

“Oh, baby girl,” Steve crooned with a voice thick with desire, sending a sudden flutter to your heart. _Wow, that was new_. You sucked harshly as you pulled off, mouthing at the red head of his cock. _You wanted to hear it again_.

As determined as ever, you slid down around Steve’s length, barely withholding a gag when his tip reached the back of your throat. You swallowed as you started to bob your head back and forth slowly, pulling a sharp hiss from his lips. “You’re – hah, _f-fuck_ –”

His right hand came down to cup your jaw, the seams of his fingerless gloves scratching your skin. The pads of his fingers were pressed lightly under your chin, almost as if Steve wanted to feel every little movement. You dragged your head back, popping off of him only to lick the thick bead of pre-cum from his slit.

“Stevie, baby, you’re so perfect,” you praised in a whisper, returning to wrap your lips around his cock.

“Took the words” – You hollowed your cheeks again, focusing your tongue to circle at the sensitive head – “right outta my mouth, baby girl.” A loud moan came from him unabashedly, his cheeks burning a pretty shade of pink. If he looked this ruined, you could only _imagine_ the sight you had to be, on your knees and sucking off Captain America.

Steve’s other hand twisted into your hair, knocking off the service cap in his haste. He held you still as he started to thrust shallowly, testing, before taking slow, deep movements. You moaned, high and tight, as you felt the heat pool between your legs just by him trying to get himself off. And you let him, trying to relax your jaw enough to let him fuck into your mouth.

It was all so intoxicating, the way all of your senses were just centered around _Steve_. The sight of him, still fully dressed in his red-white-and-blue combat uniform with the deep blush creeping up from his collar. The weight of him, cock hot and heavy on your tongue as he continued to thrust. The taste of him, heady and salty but familiar. The scent of him, leather and sunlight and just a little bit of his cologne filling your lungs. The sound of him, panting and moaning and honest-to-God whimpering as he chased his release.

When his hips stuttered and his voice took on a tinge of desperation, you knew he was close. Steve was like clockwork in that way, and you slid back until just his tip was in your mouth and you suckled, knowing it was enough to pull him over the edge.

“ _Shhhit_.” Steve came with a shout, dragging out into a low moan as his whole body stiffened. His spend spurted out of him in thick ribbons, coating your tongue. You swallowed him down, working him through his climax until he was shaking at the knees.

You had just gotten your feet back under you when his mouth captured yours. Steve’s hands were firm in your hair and around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He licked the seam of your lips, groaning into your mouth as his tongue pushed against yours. Full-body chills tingled up and down your spine as he traced every tooth and seemed to chase the very taste of himself on your tongue. And that was just about the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your whole life.

Steve bit at your lips lightly before pulling away with a wet smack, a thin thread of spittle the only thing connecting you together. He pressed his forehead to yours, meeting your gaze with intense blue eyes. “Happy fucking birthday to me,” he exhaled in a laugh, going in once more for another kiss.

~*~*~*~

You always knew that Tony had been notorious for his large-scale parties. Big fancy things with a full bar of ridiculously expensive alcohol and notable guests mingling about. After a year working for him, it was kind of a given, which is why you weren’t surprised when he planned a party to celebrate the team’s recently successful mission in Sokovia.

At some point, you found yourself standing with Tony, Thor, and Hill as Colonel James Rhodes recounted a glorious War Machine story, ultimately crashing and burning when his punchline didn’t pull a reaction more than some kind smiles.

When the topic of significant others was brought up (with Thor and Tony arguing over whose girlfriend was better), Rhodey and Hill slinked off without you. As the childish bickering continued, you caught the two men’s attention briefly and said your goodbyes.

“As riveting as this argument is, gentlemen, I think I’m going to go find _my_ boyfriend and make-out with him.”

Another thing you always knew was that Steve could never get drunk, no matter how expensive or alcoholic the drink, because the serum sped up his metabolism so much. Thor had apparently seen that as a challenge, because he had come back from his realm with some real hard stuff. (Dr. Erskine never considered the effects of Asgardian liquor on America’s Golden Boy – and it was amusingly obvious by the redness that colored Steve’s cheeks tonight.)

You found him and Sam on the upper landing that overlooked the common area, and Steve greeted you with a wide smile as he pulled you against his side. “There’s my pretty lady!”

Your brows rose in surprise as you started laughing. It was kind of refreshing to see Steve so… _laid back_ for once. “How much of Thor’s magic juice did you _have_?”

Steve lifted his other hand, measuring a small distance with his thumb and pointer finger, but glancing past him, you noticed Sam raise two fingers over his shoulder.

Looking back at your boyfriend, you questioned, “But ‘pretty lady’, though? Where’d that come from?”

“Waddya mean?” he shot back, his Brooklyn accent slipping some. “I always think you’re pretty. Although, you _are_ prettiest when your cheeks are flushed, and you got those lips o’ yours around my –”

“Steven Grant Rogers, you shut your whore mouth right now!”

Sam burst out laughing – cackling, really – at the mortified look on your reddened face, doubling over as he continued to wheeze. Okay. So perhaps Laid-Back Steve wasn’t good to have in the cards, like, _ever_ again.

~*~*~*~

The night’s festivities and team bonding were cut short with the appearance of a mangled Iron Legion bot hobbling in from the private elevator. The fight that ensued left most of the team bruised and a little shaken, with you catching the brunt of the injuries after being thrown against Natasha and landing hard onto a mess of broken glass.

It had sobered Steve up really quick. After everyone yelled at Tony and Bruce for inadvertently creating a dangerous AI behind their backs, your boyfriend marched you to Dr. Cho’s lab to patch you up. Despite the hard frown that was fixed on his mouth and the incredibly furious fire in his eyes, Steve was gentle as he picked out the tiny shards embedded in your back and shoulder. His thumb caressed your skin after every little hiss that escaped from your lips.

You glanced at him over your shoulder as he worked, holding his gaze for a moment before it shifted away. “Steve.”

“ _What?_ ” he snapped without thinking. He must’ve caught your slightly shocked expression before you could hide it, because he followed with a meek, “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged dismissively, starting, “Don’t be mad at them.”

“I’m not,” Steve lied coolly.

“You have your Disappointed Cap Face on, babe. It’s kind of obvious.”

“But I’m not… It’s not _just_ them I’m mad at.” He set the tweezers and gauze down on the table beside you, leaning both palms against the edge. You noticed the conflict in his eyes before he spoke again. “I’m madder at myself.”

“Why?”

“Because you got hurt, doll. I still couldn’t protect you, and I was _here._ ”

You twisted around to face Steve, nudging the first-aid kit away. “Hey. I’m not dead yet,” you teased with a smirk. “I think you’re doing a pretty good job at keeping me alive, mister.”

~*~*~*~

The first few hours after the destruction of Sokovia were… intense. Medical was filled with injured civilians; those less-wounded were sitting in the corridors, being tended to by free agents and nurses. Clint was battered but limped around helping, Thor and Steve were on the top deck still corralling everyone inside, and Natasha was on the bridge trying to find the Quinjet that Bruce had flown away in. Fury, Hill, and Cameron were working to keep the Helicarrier afloat.

You had pulled a random first-aid kit from one of the carts and shoved Tony into an empty conference room to tend to his wounds, despite his whiny protests. “I’m alright, Y/N,” he pushed. “You should go look after the other – _ow_ , fuck a duck.”

“That hurt?” you asked uselessly, earning a soft glare from the brunet. The grimace on his face when you’d shifted his arm was answer enough; you supposed the Iron Man armor wasn’t able to stunt all his blows.

“Just… a crick in my neck,” Tony replied, eyes focusing on a spot above your head like he was trying to downplay the pain. He didn’t bother with swallowing the groan when you gently prodded at his ribs, and he twitched uncomfortably on the conference table.

You said softly, “You shouldn’t push yourself so hard.”

“Sure, I’ll call you next time a _fucking_ city is falling from the sky,” he wisecracked. A sigh escaped him as his thumbs made their rounds cracking the knuckles of his fingers one at a time.

Both of you turned to the door when it opened a few minutes later. Steve stood with one foot in the doorway, ash and blood staining his suit, looking exhausted. “Uhh… sorry. I needed to – I-I thought this was empty.” His eyes flickered quickly between you and Tony, almost unsure if he should finish his step or find somewhere else to hide.

Steve sounded so drained. You could clearly see the tension in his shoulders, the downturn of his mouth. There was a hitch in his chest when he inhaled, and he blinked back the mist in his eyes. Your boy was about ready to cry, and it just broke your heart.

“Tony?” you whispered, looking at the genius and asking a silent question.

He nodded once, letting out a confirming “yeah, you got it,” before slipping past Steve with a comforting hand to his shoulder.

The door shut as your boyfriend fully entered the room, and with two large steps he was folding you into his arms. Arms wound tight around your waist, as if you’d disappear if he let you go. He smelled of sweat and ore and an underlying musk that was simply _Steve_. You reached your arms around his shoulders, hugging him close and placing a hand to the back of his head.

He remained quiet while he held onto you, face pressed against your neck in search of reassurance. The two of you stood in silence for a few moments before you muttered carefully, stroking his sweat-dampened hair, “D’you want to talk about it?”

Steve shook his head no, and yet, nearly inaudible words were still whispered: “I’m so tired.”

There was so much weight in those words and the pain in his voice that tears stung your eyes. You had no idea what really went on in that battlefield against Ultron’s minions, or what kind of horrible vision that Wanda Maximoff had put in his head. Until Steve decided to talk about it, you wouldn’t know what was weighing so heavily on his mind either. But you knew that he was hurting, and he was fighting so hard to keep his resolve even with the whole world on his shoulders.

“I know, baby, I’ve got you,” you said as comfortingly as possible. Pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear, you shushed lightly. You rubbed small circles into his back. “You’ve always been so strong, but I am, too, remember? You don’t need to do this alone anymore.”

~*~*~*~

It took about two weeks for the Avengers to move-house from the Tower to the new facility in upstate New York. The Compound used to be a rundown Stark Industries warehouse, but with some remodeling and a two-acre extension, it became the stuff of architectural dreams.

(The new en suite head-to-toe showerheads were also stuff of dreams, and you definitely took _full_ advantage of that the very first night.) You were brushing your teeth at the bathroom sink when your eye caught on something silver hanging from the top corner of the large mirror. It took a moment to realize that Steve had left his dog tags hanging, forgotten from his last shower.

“Babe!” you shouted after rinsing your mouth. You tapped your toothbrush against the faucet before tossing it into the holder. “You left your tags!”

“My what?” Steve poked his head in through the door as you reached for the silver chain. The dog tags clinked together in your palm, still cool against your skin.

“These are important, y’know, Captain Steven G. Rogers,” you read off. As he came closer, you raised your head to smile at him, dropping the military tags into his waiting hand.

Steve’s gaze remained laser-focused on the imprinted metal, rubbing a thumb over the texture of his name. “Actually, you’re right,” he began, a fingernail catching on the notch at the end of the World War II-style tag, “these _are_ important.”

“Then why aren’t you wearing…?”

You trailed off when he slid the chain over your head. Your heart felt like it was pounding hard in your ribcage when his fingers grazed the back of your neck to tug your hair out. Suddenly, the lightweight metal felt incredibly heavy as it hung from your neck.

“Steve –”

“I want you to have ‘em.” A fond smile appeared on his full lips, and the joy dancing in his eyes was a sight. Steve dragged the pads of his fingers up along the chain, and heat rushed to your face when he cupped your cheek. “They look better on you anyway.”

You shook your head slightly, looking him straight in the eye. “No, I can’t – Stevie, honestly, these are _too_ important.”

“Exactly. You’re important to _me_.” He explained, with that dopey smile still on his face, “When the boys came home from war, they always gave their tags to their best girls.” He leaned down to slot his mouth against yours, innocent and sweet. Steve then whispered against your lips, “It’s a promise, for forever…” Another kiss, firmer, hungrier; he licked into your mouth, pushing against your tongue as he swallowed your moan. You pulled him closer by the front of his shirt, lightheaded already as you breathed in him. “It’s an ‘I love you’.”

~*~*~*~

Couples fought. Normal couples fought. Even superhero couples fought.

You and Steve had your fair share of fights over the years, and even though you eventually made up, Steve knew things were just forgiven and not forgotten. Sometimes it weighed on him. Perhaps it was only the latent insecurities prodding at the edges, but he’d catch himself wondering why you bothered staying with him after everything.

Then, you’d remind him that you stayed with him _because_ of everything. Every laugh, every kiss, every song sung off-key in the shower, every lazy morning cuddled in bed, every near-death on missions, every slammed door, every shouting match, every memory both good and bad.

You would remind him that you loved him, and that he loved you, and sometimes that was enough.

~*~*~*~

It had been the best few years of his whole life, and because he was stupid and selfish, it all came crashing down around him. Steve knew – he _knew_ – that good things always ended but he had tried so desperately to hold onto it. To hold onto _you_.

It had started with the incident in Lagos, when he’d frozen at the mere mention of Bucky while fighting Rumlow. Wanda had saved him from the detonation blast but couldn’t get it out of the way before it exploded into the side of the IFID headquarters. People died. You had told him that it wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t accept it.

It continued after Secretary Ross dropped the Sokovia Accords into their laps, and after he got a text that Peggy had passed away in her sleep. Everything became too overwhelming and he just got up and left the rest of the Avengers mid-conversation. You had followed him in an attempt at comfort, but he had been so strung out that he yelled. All you did was pull him into your arms while he cried.

It ended after the fight with Tony in Siberia, when he’d chosen to protect his best friend and violate the Accords. He had broken his team out from prison, and by some miracle you were still willing to help him and Bucky to keep a low profile while they waited for Prince T’Challa to send for them. There was no way in hell that he was going to let you come with them, though, because running was too dangerous.

In the end, Steve still had to choose. In the moment, he didn’t think there _was_ a choice at all. In the moment, he foolishly thought he was protecting you. Maybe – maybe if he’d been more desperate. Maybe then he could have held onto you for a little bit longer.

“I’m not staying here!” you had shouted, brows furrowed. “If you’re going, then I’m going.”

Steve took in a breath to calm himself, letting it go from his nostrils. A frown was set on his mouth. “Y/N, I’m not going to let you turn yourself into a fugitive just so –”

You huffed out, “What about _you_? Steve, you promised me, remember?”

He blinked. “What?”

“No fugitive shit unless I’m _with_ you.”

“Well, fuck, maybe you shouldn’t be!” he all but growled out.

He hadn’t meant to say it. He was frustrated and tired and _he hadn’t meant to say it_. Steve just wanted you to be safe, he had to make sure you were safe, and you wouldn’t be if you were on the run with him.

But the look on your face when he’d said it – oh God, it broke him. It was the shock in your eyes, the quiver of your lip, and the shaky breath you’d pulled in.

“You don’t…” He watched you blink away tears, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Your voice cracked as you finished, “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” Steve stared at you, through you. His eyes started to water, throat feeling like it was closing in on him, and his jaw set as he tried to keep himself from taking it back. He had to. He had to push you away. He had to keep you safe, even if it meant it wasn’t with him.

You’d turned your face away from him, face scrunching up in visible pain. Steve wanted nothing but to fold you into his arms and sooth you with sweet nothings. He wanted you to look him in the eyes again and see that, _no, he didn’t really mean it_.

When Steve heard the chain of his dog tags snap, he knew it was over. It fell from your neck, pooling into your hand. You stared at his military tags with tears streaking down your face before you threw it at his feet.

Steve barely managed to stay composed enough until you left out the door without one glance over your shoulder. The fresh hole in his heart that was the shape of you told him that he’d chosen wrong.

~*~*~*~

“I liked her.”

Steve looked up from his seat at the Quinjet’s cockpit, angling his head back to see Bucky standing behind him. He furrowed his brows, asking dumbly, “Who?”

Bucky gestured to the phone held protectively in Steve’s hand. “Y/N. I liked her. She was real good for you, I think.”

He faced forward again, frowning. Steve stared at the bright screen of his phone, opened up to the Camera Roll filled with at least a thousand random photos from over the years. Some of them were unimportant things – buildings and sunsets from around the world that he’d taken when he had time – and others were not. Others were photos of him and the Avengers team, either donning their uniforms post-mission or dressed to the nines in the fanciest clothes.

Bucky had caught him staring at the pictures he had of you. Candids with you at dinners, posed shots with you from outings, even the incredibly domestic ones that he’d snapped in the comforts of the apartment. Steve’s eyes glossed over one of the more recent photos: it was a selfie, the two of you were buried in the down comforters in a post-coital haze, grinning so wide with hearts in your eyes that it made his chest hurt looking at it.

“Why’d you even break it off with her, Stevie?” The frustrated tone in Bucky’s voice had jarred him back from his thoughts. He didn’t realize that the brunet had moved to sit in the co-pilot seat.

Steve’s upper lip curled up. “She’d be running for the rest of her life if I hadn’t.”

Bucky made a face, looking like he’d just bit into a sour fruit. “Sure, but at least she’d be running with _your_ dumb ass.”

“There was no choice here, Buck –”

“Oh, don’t you say that shit to me. We’re flying across the Atlantic right now because of a choice.”

“That’s not the same thing –”

“It really fucking is, Steve.” The look Bucky gave him made Steve feel like he was five-foot-four and less than a hundred pounds again. “You’re trying to protect me, like you’re trying to protect her. You just have your head so far up your ass that you fucked it up.”

Steve glared at him. “Fuck you. I _am_ protecting her.”

“Then why isn’t she _here_?”

~*~*~*~

Your break was harsh and jagged, and he regretted it almost immediately. The words he’d exchanged with Bucky before Shuri and T’Challa put him into cryo again had opened his eyes to just how much.

Steve had sent Tony a burner cell and a letter after some things had died down, never expecting any kind of communication from him. And there wasn’t, not really, except for one text which came in three months after he, Sam, Wanda, and Natasha had gone on the run: _Y/N quit. Thought you should know._

A selfish part of him kind of wished he didn’t, because it broke him inside to know you were probably just as affected by it as he was. It had taken one close call too many on a mission before Steve pulled himself up by the bootstraps and fixed his head on right.

Their team worked on flushing out hidden HYDRA cells meanwhile, and he’d almost forgotten that Fury was doing the same thing until he saw you in South Africa another three months later. Sam’s Redwing had picked up your visual with two other SHIELD agents at a warehouse while doing reconnaissance; Sam had taken the reins and aborted _that_ mission, because Steve froze.

Because Steve, now formally considered the world’s most wanted like the rest of them, was about ready to get caught after six months without detection because _he missed you so fucking much._

Natasha continued to remind him that he was only torturing himself, but the pain was a constant reminder that you were safer working for Fury than being with him. (Or so he kept telling himself.) Steve knew that he should’ve stopped testing his luck. People always said that time made the heart grow fonder, but it’d been a year now, yet he hadn’t figured out how to think about you without wanting to rip his heart out.

It was in Spain when Wanda realized what Steve was doing. He’d been subtle about it, letting them follow breadcrumbs left behind, but she eventually noticed that you and Cameron Klein would be arriving at the HYDRA bases after their team finished their tasks and tied up the bad guys. Almost like leaving Fury’s SHIELD a little present.

She had confronted him one day while at a street market, frustration pouring out of her in waves. “You are continuing to be reckless,” Wanda said under her breath, observing some fresh fruit. “Ross is still trying to sniff us out, and if you –”

“I haven’t done anything to compromise the team,” Steve huffed quietly, giving her a stern look before moving onto the next stall.

Pointedly, she sighed, “That you know of.”

Steve didn’t bother to respond, because she was right, and he hated it. But if Fury’s spies _just so happened_ to find some tip-offs regarding the same HYDRA facilities that they did, and Secretary Ross didn’t, he thought it was a successful play.

At least then, Steve could still watch over you from afar, just like today. While he and Wanda were going back to their dingy hideout, he had spotted you in the square talking with Cameron, asking a local for directions. Your hair was pulled back in a uniform manner, allowing him a good look at the face he hadn’t laid eyes on in weeks. A soft but sad smile tugged on his lips, longing for the times he could just as easily have twisted his fingers through your hair to pull you into a –

Steve’s breath caught in his throat when your shoulders tensed up and your head whipped around as if you felt his eyes on you from behind. He was pretty sure that he was unrecognizable by then (with a soft scruff of beard so thick and dark-blond hair longer than it’s ever been in his life), but you had years to memorize the look of his eyes. You’d have known it was him in a split second. He would have sworn that his heart stuttered when your eyes slid past him, returning your attention to answer your friend’s indecipherable question.

The ache in his chest was deep, bordering on physically painful. Steve wondered briefly, while he yearned to see just one last glimpse of you as they turned the corner, if he could possibly die of heartbreak. The look of resigned pity from Wanda told him that he could.

~*~*~*~

It had been another year of being on the run while simultaneously fighting crime before Steve got the phone call that he always hoped for. Except, instead of Tony on the other line like he expected, it was –

“Bruce?”

“ _Yeah, Cap. Uh. Been a long time_.”

“No kidding.” Steve ran his other hand down his face, scratching at his beard. “Not that I’m not glad to hear from you, but… Where’s Tony?”

That was the start of it. Steve, Natasha, and Sam went to pick up Vision and Wanda before returning to the New Avengers compound for the first time in two years. They were flying back into dangerous territory, quite literally asking to be arrested, but that was the least of their worries when an intergalactic threat was looming over their heads.

When their group had walked into the Compound and were welcomed warmly by Rhodey, the anxiety churning in his gut abated a bit. “Wow. You guys…” The Colonel looked at each of them, eyes fixing on Sam who was keeping Vision standing. “Really look like crap.”

Steve broke out in a smile, shaking his head.

“Must’ve been a rough couple years,” Rhodey added.

“Yeah, well, the hotels weren’t exactly five-star,” Sam responded in jest.

A voice came from the far entrance to the room, making Steve’s heart pick up. “Uhh… I-I think you look great.”

They all turned around to see you and Bruce take the steps to the sunken floor, hesitant smiles on both of your faces. Steve tried to mask the shock on his face; Bruce hadn’t mentioned that you were here. A million things ran through his head as you approached, none as loud and as certain as, _I never stopped loving her_.

Your eyes found his slowly, and Steve sighed as the tension eased from his shoulders. His heart pounded in his chest, pumping blood through his ears. A thin-lipped smile appeared on your face, open but cautious. Your eyes were soft, bright; they weren’t filled with the anger Steve had expected, but something else that screamed _home_.

Steve found his voice, eventually cutting through the tense silence. “Hi, Y/N,” he said softly, the corners of his lips quirking up a bit. His fingers twitched, itching to feel you in his arms again if you’d let him.

Your smile broadened, reaching your eyes. “Hi, Steve.” The sound of your voice was filled with a tenderness that seized the breath from his lungs. The two of you stood there, just staring at each other, almost sharing a quiet conversation.

Sam abruptly cleared his throat, jibing, “Well. This is awkward.”

~*~*~*~

Steve had led you to your old bedroom, away from prying eyes and listening ears. He wanted to talk to you, to apologize, to ask for forgiveness, to see where things stood between you. But neither of you got to talking much after that first kiss, tentative and careful, but oh so bittersweet.

The kiss had opened the floodgates, taking with it a tidal wave of emotions that you both poured into it. Steve couldn’t keep his hands off of you, wrapping around your waist and gripping at your hips. Your fingers were twisted between his long blond locks, tugging hard just on the edge of pain that it pulled a grunt out of him, one that you happily smothered with your tongue.

“I’m sorry,” he managed as you both started to tear each other’s clothes off. Steve went lightheaded when your lips returned to his, firm and accepting, and he breathed you in. His whole chest filled with a warmth that he hadn’t been privy to in so long.

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” you confessed in between kisses, peppering his cheeks and nose before pressing into his mouth once more. “You’re here. I missed you.”

There was very little finesse with the way you two clung to each other. Your kiss was feverish, hungry, searching, exploring. Steve relished in the taste of you, ravaging your mouth in a clash of teeth and tongue, soft moans and pants and mutters of each other’s name.

You both fell into bed in a tangle of limbs, skin flushed hot against the cold and stiff sheets. There was an unspoken agreement between you two when Steve’s cock slid between your folds, that there was no time for teasing or foreplay or any other delay. He mouthed wet kisses at the underside of your jawline, sucking deep red bruises down your neck. When Steve licked up the column of your throat, he absolutely keened at the moan that came from you.

Steve’s hips shifted forward, and his breath hitched at the familiar heat as he slicked himself with the wetness between your legs. Your legs wound around his waist, pulling him closer as you reached up with a hand to hold his face. Steve’s hair was already falling into his eyes, but you combed it back with a soft touch that he leaned into. A ghost of a smile was playing on your mouth, and your eyes seemed to scan Steve’s face before darting to his parted lips.

As you dragged the pad of your thumb across his bottom lip, you whispered again, loud enough for him to hear, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he mumbled against your lips, leaning down for a kiss. “So much.”

Steve panted into your mouth as he guided himself to our entrance, his brain shorting out even as the head of his cock slipped in. You rocked your hips up into him at the exact moment that he thrusted forward, and you both grunted in unison at the sudden movement. He braced his forearms at either side your head, pressing his nose against yours as he gave you a messy kiss. Steve rocked back, nearly pulling out all the way before slowly, so very slowly, pushed back into your enveloping warmth, tight and fever hot around his length.

He pressed his face at the juncture of your neck, his lips hovering just over your pulse. Steve started with unhurried and deep strokes; laser-focused on the way your breath hitched with every roll of his hips and the way you clenched around him. His pace quickened when the grip he had on his resolve slipped, unable to keep up the agonizingly slow thrusts.

You scratched at the broad expanse of his back, moving to tug on the hairs at the nape of his neck. Every thrust that Steve gave turned hard and fast but stayed just as deep; every time he hit that particular sweet spot inside of you, it was punctuated by a breathless “hah, hah, fuck, baby, right there” that only spurred him on.

Steve had missed you. He had missed this, being close and intimate and loved by you. You had ruined him for anyone else, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. He savored hearing your moans, your gasps, your high whimpers that filled the empty space of the room, echoed only by his own. Your inner walls fluttered tight around him, making him groan as he pushed forward again.

His hips stuttered when you wrapped your arms firmly around his neck, holding onto him as you cried out, “Steve, I – _fffuck_!”

Steve slid an arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest as he picked up his speed, chasing his release that was just at the edge, building up his spine and breaking like a dam. With a few more thrusts he was spilling into you, his cock buried deep into your heat with his hips flush against yours. Steve’s vision whited out as his orgasm crashed through him; the world melted away until the only coherent thought in his brain was: “Hah, fu – _shit_ – oh, baby girl, I love you.”

You found his mouth again, kissing him sloppy and stupid as you shuddered through a second orgasm. It dragged his out as you milked him for all he was worth, and Steve swore that his heart would burst out of his chest as stars danced behind his eyes.

He was so blissed out that he barely caught himself before he collapsed on top of you, leaning awkwardly on an elbow. He shifted to pull out of you until you tightened your legs that were still wrapped around his waist, and he took it as permission to just… be. Steve laid over you comfortably, limbs feeling like jelly, puffing out heavy breaths into your skin. You carded your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair.

Steve wasn’t sure how long you both stayed like that, basking in the afterglow of the most intense sex he’d ever experienced. Neither of you spoke – his brain was still trying to rewire itself to do so – and he reveled in the short reprieve of peace you had made for yourselves.

Eventually, you pressed a soft kiss to his crown. “I love you, too, Steve.”

He shifted, angling his head up to rest on your shoulder. Steve traced the features of your face, deciding that you were more beautiful now than ever. God, how the hell did he mess _this_ up for so long? He breathed out quietly, unsure if you could hear him, “I’m sorry for leaving.”

But you must have heard, because you smiled down at him sadly. “S’okay,” you whispered back. You pressed your lips to his again, inhaling as you did so. “We should probably go back to the others, soon.”

“Nuh-uh,” Steve huffed, wrapping his arms around you tighter and snuggling closer. “I’m not ready to share you yet.”

You laughed, a beautiful sound that Steve loved and missed and wanted to drown in. “Yeah. Me neither.”

~*~*~*~

It was devastating to realize that they… _lost_. They _actually_ lost. Steve had watched his best friend turn to dust right in front of him. He watched as others died and blew away in the wind, like they were nothing.

He must have been in shock for most of the flight in the Quinjet, because at some point he’d had the wherewithal to scramble for a phone. Your line rang and rang and rang until it went to voicemail, your cheerful voice instructing him to leave a message.

Steve couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He could only assume that you’d –

The wracking sobs had jolted out of him. _He had just gotten you back._ Bruce and Natasha were watching him from the corners of their eyes, and Steve didn’t need to look at them to feel their pity.

He redialed; sight blurred by the tears freely streaming down his face. He received the same thing: “ _You’ve reached Y/N’s cell. Leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone!_ ”

A nightmare. It’s exactly what this was.

~*~*~*~

There were some people that talked about the box and the ball when talking about grief. A person’s grief was the ball stuck inside of the box. When it’s fresh and new, the ball was so huge that it filled up the entire thing, and it’s a chronic feeling because it pressed up against that stupid little button of sadness.

Supposedly, it would get smaller as time went on; the ball would shrink and bounce around. The thing was, sometimes it would hit that button again, the sadness coming at the most random times. That grief never really goes away, and it was a constant reminder that people could move on and live with it.

Steve had lived with it for five years now.

~*~*~*~

Steve stared at the red-white-and-blue shield leaning against the other end of the couch. The feeling of relief at having it back in his possession was completely washed over by the feeling of absolute guilt. Even after half a decade, he felt like the state of the world was somehow his fault because of one of his _stupid_ choices.

(He’d turned that stone over in his hand so many times that there was no convincing him otherwise, really. He’d broken up the team, which left them weak against the fight with Thanos. No one’s argued against that logic yet.)

“Penny for your thoughts?”

The super-soldier startled a bit, and Tony cut off an amused laugh as he slowly entered the shared space of the living room. Steve noticed his jacket was now wrapped around his waist and his shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms, from working with Bruce on the time machine tech.

“Or I could give you two,” Tony continued with a small grin, taking a seat in the lounger beside Steve. “You look like you might need it.”

“I’m grateful to you, for coming back, honest.” Steve examined Tony thoughtfully for a moment before his eyes flickered back to the shield. “But you could’ve just sent the data to Bruce, avoided the trouble.”

Tony huffed a laugh, leaning back into the cushions. He shook his head, saying, “You must’ve gotten a screw knocked loose somewhere, Cap. I can’t believe you thought I’d leave _all_ the world-saving to you.”

Steve managed a small smile. “Well, why did you? Come back, I mean.”

“I put myself into your shoes.”

“I don’t follow,” he responded, the corners of his mouth turning down.

The genius cleared his throat once, the expression on his face shifting solemnly. “If it was Pepper – if she was gone, and I had a chance to bring her back, I’d want everyone here. I’d be fighting tooth and nail for her, too.”

“Y/N isn’t the only reason that –”

“Isn’t she, though? For you?”

Steve could only look Tony in the eyes for so long before he averted his gaze. There was no use in lying; the truth was probably written all over his face.

“Y/N was the one true love of your life, man. We’ll bring her back,” Tony said with a hopeful tone in his voice. He smiled brightly, reaching forward to pat Steve’s knee. “With the band back together, we’ll bring them all back.”

~*~*~*~

Their plan had been going _so well_ up to the point where the 2012 version of himself had found him sneaking away with the scepter that held the Mind Stone. There was a rough fight between them, both getting in hard blows even before falling off of the fourteenth-floor landing and careening through glass stairways until they hit a wider level, several floors below.

His jaw smarted when he grit his teeth together, and he felt a searing ache bloom in his ribs when he pushed himself to his feet, but hell – despite needing to confront his younger self, at least it was a mission accomplished. _Sort of_.

Shards of glass were everywhere, and he ignored the biting nicks on his skin when his suit rubbed against them. Steve panted slightly as he stood over the unconscious body of his past-self, sprawled across the eighth-floor mezzanine. He reached down for the scepter, eyes flickering back to the other Captain America for a moment.

A deep-seated pang of yearning hit in his gut before a coherent thought could even fully form. _Don’t do it_ , he told himself. _You’ll fuck up the timeline more than you already have. Don’t fucking do it._ But… sometimes, even he let himself be selfish.

The scepter lay forgotten as Steve instead took a step forward to reach for the other’s cowl and pulled it off his face. The SHIELD-issued comm link was in the other Steve’s left ear, like it always was, and it didn’t take him long to get through the communication channels to finally reach –

“…Y/N?”

“– _second, thanks_.” His heart was beating so heavy in his chest all of a sudden. Oh, God. Steve wasn’t sure if he regretted this or not. “ _Steve! Hey, I thought you were busy running point for ground crew_.”

No. No, Steve would never in his life regret listening to your voice again, so sweet and light and _alive_. Merely hearing it again after half a decade shocked his senses. He took in a shuddering breath, his vision blurring suddenly with hot tears.

“ _Steve, you there? Are you okay?_ ”

The hand at his ear hovered, frozen, while the other came up to his mouth to smother the sob that came out of nowhere. His cheeks were warm. When had he started crying?

“Uh, yeah,” he choked out. Steve made an attempt to clear his throat, swallowing down the lump stuck in it. “I’m-I’m here.”

There was a subtle crackling silence over the comm feed. For a moment, Steve wondered just how badly he’d jeopardized the mission before you returned with, “ _Are you sure you’re okay, Cap?_ ”

“I just…” His heart _longed_ for you. God, he wanted to drop everything, to find you, to hold you in his arms again. He wanted to kick himself for having waited too long to share his life with you, for not giving yourselves _more time_. “I just needed to hear your voice,” he confessed with a whisper, wiping the wet streaks on his face.

“ _Hey, it’s okay_.” There was a tinge of uncertainty in your tone, but even then, you were calm, considerate. “ _Chin up, soldier, you guys just saved the world_.”

Steve let himself ride the wave of mixed emotions before grounding himself again. The reason he was _here_ was for more time. The reason he was here was to save _his_ world. And he could do it. He had to. Steve would bring you back, even if it killed him.

(It didn’t, and for that he was thankful. You were at his side, keeping him standing, when everyone mourned the loss of Tony.)

~*~*~*~

Steve was so in love with you, there was no doubt about it.

Your fingers danced just below his jaw, the touch a soft caress. You smiled into the kiss, and it sent the butterflies in his stomach fluttering. Reluctantly pulling away from Steve, you fell back to the flat of your feet. Your voice remained low as you teased, “Go on, soldier. One last mission, and then you can have me six ways from Sunday.”

Oh, God, he loved you.

“I’m gonna hold you to that, doll.” Steve grinned, shaking his head in amusement. He placed a firm kiss to your forehead before he bent down to pick up the suitcase filled with Infinity Stones, grabbing Thor’s hammer with the other hand. The super-soldier walked up the ramp of the time machine platform, barely listening to Bruce’s words.

“You come back to me, Rogers!” you shouted to remind him, your eyes beaming as bright as the smile you wore.

He stole a look to you and Bucky, who were standing shoulder to shoulder a few paces ahead of him. A feeling of warmth rose up in his chest again, a feeling that he missed oh so much. _Home_. Steve couldn’t help the cheesy smile that immediately wiped across his face, even as the suit’s helmet formed around him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded in jest, nodding as Bruce started to count him off. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

As the floor dropped out from under his feet, and he was suddenly flowing through the quantum tunnels again, Steve knew that he was going to come back to you. He was going to come back to spend the rest of his life lounging through lazy mornings with you, falling asleep under down comforters with you, and (hopefully, one day) bringing kids into the world with you. For all of that, Steve knew he was going to come _home_.

The diamond ring tucked safely underneath the suit felt incredibly heavy in his pocket. After all, he did make you a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Let me know what you think of the ending!! I was originally going to end it after the Decimation (because angst) but then the Time Heist scene planted itself into my brain at the last minute and I just _had to_.
> 
> Shout-out to [Oz494949](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oz494949) for basically ghost-writing that bj scene for me lol 
> 
> ~~also is it obvious with this chapter how absolutely TOUCH-STARVED i am, because i am lol~~


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